The Glory of LoVe
by Scandalpants
Summary: Future fic: Logan and Veronica have been back together for four years now, after they got their happy ending in 'What is Past is Prologue". (Not a required read) They are happier than ever, but nothing is ever easy with these two. Especially with the surprises that are coming their way. No LoVe breakups! But I do promise angst, drama, mystery, and lots of love.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: For those who don't feel like reading the first story in this series, "What is Past is Prologue", here's a synopsis: Veronica and Logan were 26 and living in New York, but hadn't been in contact since the end of freshman year. She is an FBI agent, working undercover with her partner Adam. She is also living with her boyfriend of three years, Charlie, who is a novelist. While Veronica was out of town on assignment, Charlie was assigned a new editor, Logan Echolls. Charlie and Logan became friends, not realizing they had another connection. **

**Of course our characters meet up and things start out tense between Veronica and Logan, but they eventually settle back into being the friends they once were. Until events conspired to put them in a situation where Logan had to take care of her, then help her on a case. All that time together had to bring up old feelings, right? She and Charlie broke up, he and Logan had it out, and after a few months of being apart to make sure she was really over Charlie, Veronica and Logan got back together. **

**This story takes place four years later, so we can see what Happily Ever After looks like for them. My OCs: Veronica's partner Adam Rogan, his boyfriend/now husband Trent, Charlie McGeary - Veronica's ex, Henrietta (Henry) a tall redhead Logan went on a date with once, and then became friends with, and Deputy Director Henry David, Veronica's boss. **

**As for the fic title, it comes from the old song of the same name, and I think the lyrics suit this story well. So, where does LoVe stand after four years….**

Chapter 1

Stealthy and watchful, Veronica opened the door and listened for any sounds of movement before tiptoeing into the dark house and closing the door behind her. She winced at the slight sound the latch made. When she heard the beep of the alarm pad, she hurriedly skittered over to it and entered the code, and then held her breath. Hearing no sound, she let it out and grinned, which morphed into a groan when she felt the press of a warm body against her hip. Quickly, another body hemmed her in from the back and she knew she was busted.

Almost three years ago Logan had surprised her with not one, but two, of the ugliest puppies she'd ever seen. He shot down every argument she had against keeping the creatures, and she considered it the best fight she'd ever lost…

_She eyed the box suspiciously as he set it on the floor of the den. They had had many discussions about his extravagant tendencies, and it seemed they were about to have another. Then she realized the box had holes around the top. And was moving. And was…whining?_

_Logan gave her a shy smile and asked, "Well, aren't you going to open your birthday present?"_

_With an affected air of nonchalance, Veronica smiled at him. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it will keep until after dinner. Adam and Trent should be here with the food in about an hour. Do you want something to drink?" she asked as she walked past him toward the kitchen._

_He laughed at her. "You _think_ you know what's in there. But you're the predictable one, remember? I still have a few surprises up my sleeve."_

_Unable to contain her excitement any longer, she quickly ran across the hardwood floor and fell to her knees in front of the box. Logan knew how much she missed having a dog. Since they had moved into this ridiculously huge house, she had dropped many hints about expanding their family. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her once she opened her present._

_Two, TWO, squirmy puppies were scrambling all over each other trying to climb out of the tall box. They were both smallish, about the size of a full grown Chihuahua. But proportionately, their feet were huge. Their fur was a shaggy mixture of white and brown patches, and both sported odd sprigs of coarse gray hair. Their dark eyes were surrounded by patches of black fur. One had a long skinny snout while the other's was short and rather square. They had black noses, floppy ears, dark eyes and longish tails. The phrase 'so ugly they're cute' instantly came to mind. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and asked, "Um, what the hell kind of dogs are these?"_

_Logan grinned and squatted down to pick up the short snouted one and hug it to his chest. The hug became an effort at restraint as the puppy tried to climb and lick his face. He laughed and explained, "What you are looking at are the offspring of an ill-fated match from the dog park. Molly, a Saint Bernard, fell for Hank, a mostly Irish Wolfhound of questionable parentage, and got in a delicate condition." _

_Putting the puppy in her arms he reached down and grabbed the other. "Happy Birthday, Veronica," he said, leaning in to kiss her. The kiss turned into a family affair when the puppies squirmed and stretched up to contribute to the exchange._

_Veronica couldn't help laughing, but someone had to be the voice of reason. "Logan, do you have any idea how big they're going to get? We can't keep one, much less two, dogs that size in the city."_

_He put his puppy on its back and used his hand to begin a wrestling match. Veronica realized how much thought Logan had already put into this when he explained, "I'll run every day, and they can go with me. This house is over four thousand square feet, and the dog park is close by. I already got the number of a highly recommended dog walker to help us out. They'll get plenty of exercise."_

_She tried again, letting her puppy down to join the wrestling match. "Logan, you've never had a dog before. They take a lot of work. Chewing, housebreaking, training…it's practically a full time job."_

_He looked at her, his mouth tightening in the early stages of annoyance. "And I can do work a lot from home. I have the time. What's the problem? I thought you wanted a dog."_

"A_ dog, yes. One cute, average-sized dog like Backup. These are…hideous." Veronica grabbed one of the puppies and held up its paw to illustrate her next point. "And they'll be huge. And double the trouble. They are really sweet, but they need to go back," she insisted, and placed her hand on his arm in consolation._

_Her heart sank in defeat at his next words. "The lady I got them from won't take them back. She said if we changed our minds to just take them to the pound." He grinned, "Besides, I think they're perfect for us."_

_The corners of her mouth twitched at that. "Um, perfect how, exactly?"_

_Logan looked in her eyes and gave her a sweet smile, the kind that melted her resolve every time. "They are the result of the heart getting what it wants."_

So they had kept the puppies. At first the training didn't go well; Logan was far too indulgent with the whelps. After she made him picture her trying to wrestle two huge, untamed hellhounds that individually weighed more than she did, he managed the training with a firm and gentle hand. The result was two of the sweetest, most well-behaved dogs she'd ever known. They always greeted her with subdued joy, no matter what time of day or night she came home.

All she wanted to do tonight was crawl into a nice warm bed and sleep for three days; however, having been gone for over two weeks, familial obligations must be met. She reached her hands down and gave a scratch to each of the furry creatures, and then made her way to the stairs in the dark. The dogs followed, but stayed back a few steps so they wouldn't trip her.

Their bedroom was on the top floor of the four story house, and it took every last ounce of her energy to make it up the last few steps. She entered the dark room, quietly removed her jeans and socks, and then slipped into bed, wearing only her t-shirt and bikinis. She breathed a sigh of relief as the dogs settled quietly onto their own beds.

"Nice try sneaking in, but I woke up when the boys went down to greet you," Logan admonished, and scooted over to snuggle into her side. His arm draped across her waist as he burrowed in to place a kiss on her neck.

Veronica let out a low laugh. "And you couldn't be bothered to get out of bed. I think I'm being taken for granted here. At least Hat and Mc still think I'm worth getting up for."

Logan moved his head to chuckle and whisper in her ear, "Oh, you're worth getting up for all right. I'm just so good I don't have to get out of bed to do it." His hand on her waist began to roam northward. "In fact—", he stopped when he heard her slight gasp. His tone instantly changed from teasing to demanding. "What's wrong, Veronica?"

She tried to play it casual. His reaction was predictable and she was far too tired tonight. So she teasingly complained, "I've been gone two weeks without any midnight groping sessions. I haven't assimilated yet. And I'm really wrecked. How about you let me sleep and we get reacquainted tomorrow?"

Logan reached behind him and turned on the bedside lamp in answer. The inspection he conducted was done with a tight jaw and hard eyes, cataloging the damage this last case had wrought. Her mind did a mental tally of all her injuries during his examination: a bruised cheekbone and ribs, scraped jaw, fingerprint marks around her right forearm, and a broken left wrist. She'd had worse, but not since they had gotten back together four years ago. He'd done well refraining from complaining about her job, though she knew he hated the danger element. However, a broken bone definitely upped the ante. After a few moments of tense silence Veronica decided to try for levity, so grinned and told him, "You should see the other guy."

He countered, with no trace of her humor, "Oh, I'd like to. As a matter of fact, I'd like to have a few minutes alone with him."

Veronica sighed. "Logan, I really can't do this tonight. We arrested the bad guys and I got a little banged up in the process. The case is closed and I'm exhausted. The doctor said I need to rest so, please?" she begged. She hated using his concern as a bargaining chip for sleep, but she was desperate.

His brow furrowed with worry, but his anger wasn't tempered in the least. Logan nodded and turned out the light, then snuggled in next to her again and stroked her hair until she dropped into oblivion.

* * *

When Veronica woke, his side of the bed was empty. Raindrops fell against the roof and windows in a muffled rhythm, and the sunlight coming in the windows was gray and muted. The clock showed she had slept for a mere six hours. Though she was tempted to snuggle deeper into the bedclothes, the pending conversation was more pressing. She pulled on a pair of sweats, a cardigan and slippers, and then went to find him, dreading the thought of more stairs. Today this house had far too many stairs.

Logan was living in a high-rise, penthouse apartment when they reconciled. She had just moved into a modest third-floor studio befitting her newly single status and budget. Though he had been adamant about their living together, she had been just as adamant about keeping her own place for a while. Having just broken up with a man she'd loved for three years, it seemed wise to slowly ease back into a relationship with Logan. Living together just felt like too much too soon, and she needed to stand on her own first. After six months, she gave up her lease and moved into his deluxe apartment in the sky. And hated it.

The penthouse was very modern, and very beige. She loathed how every room bled into another with no clear delineation. Once you crossed the foyer it was just a football field of living room, kitchen, and dining area. The floor to ceiling windows offered a bird's eye view of Manhattan that made her feel too removed from the city she loved. Logan tried to sell her on the fully equipped gym in the basement, but she couldn't have cared less. All the amenities just made it feel more like a hotel than a home. They came to a compromise; she could pick a home to her taste, as long as it lived up to his standards.

Three months of house hunting had turned up a gem in the Treadwell Farms district. The neighborhood was distinctive for mostly consisting of single family homes of similar architecture and height, all built in the 1800s. The townhouse was painted dark red with newly installed black trim windows, a black front door and black railing on the stoop. Climbing the stoop and entering the front door for the first time, Veronica felt it. _Home_.

Every floor was a rectangle, approximately twenty feet wide by forty feet long. From the stoop entrance she walked into the second story; an undivided living room with a wood burning fireplace, high ceilings and crown molding that looked to be original. Its two back doors opened onto a terrace that gave a view of similar houses in the neighborhood, as well as looking down on a plush garden right below. At that point she was ready to call Logan and have him issue a check on the spot, but bid her time until the tour could be completed.

The interior stairs were located on the left side of the house, directly across from the front door. The realtor led her up the stairs to the third level which consisted of two bedrooms, one in the front and one in the back. Each had its own bathroom, fireplace, walk in closet and a three window arrangement for natural light. Between the two rooms was a laundry room and extra closet for storage.

As if that weren't enough, they headed up to the fourth story. At the back was the master suite and a gorgeously appointed bathroom. There was a double sink, a shower stall, and a large porcelain tub big enough to fit both of them. The front room was a home office that overlooked the street and would be perfect for Logan. She didn't think it could get any better, but gamely followed the realtor to check out the first story and basement.

She hadn't noticed it from the outside of the house, but the first floor had a separate gated entrance at street level that opened directly into the kitchen. In contrast to the other, lighter, floors of the house the kitchen was much darker and more opulent. The wood of the cabinets and appliance facings were a glossy, dark variegated variety the likes of which she had never seen. It was a chef's kitchen with sub-zero refrigerator, two sinks, two dishwashers and six burner range. The marble countertop extended so that barstools could be placed at the edge to make it an eat-in kitchen. They ate most of their meals at that counter because the formal dining room was ridiculous for only two. The walls and stair rail were carved from a rich mahogany and the fireplace was so pristine it had to be decorative. There was both a chandelier and recessed track lighting to brighten up the dark space, and a hidden powder room. Beyond the dining room, the den served as a marked contrast. The walls were white and the terrace floor above had a walk-on skylight, so natural light poured in at this level. The back wall was made entirely of sliding glass doors which allowed a view of the well-tended garden.

The basement was a just basement, but offered ample space for stashing bikes and other sports gear, and setting up free weights for Logan. Veronica called him the minute the tour was over and he put in a bid for eight million dollars, sight unseen. Another bidder made a higher offer and, after much back and forth, Logan handed over a cashier's check for almost nine million. He had insisted he wouldn't live anywhere that was worth less than seven, and she couldn't image a better bargain than this gorgeous house. Except on days when she was feeling like this and had four floors and a basement to explore looking for him. Her old studio sounded wonderful on those days.

Veronica walked into the kitchen just as Logan came in from a run. Her nose wrinkled in response to the smell of wet dog that quickly filled the room; the three of them were soaking. Logan grabbed a few towels from a cupboard and quickly dried off McCoy. When Veronica tried to tend to Hatfield, wincing as she bent over, Logan grabbed the towel from her and finished the job. Once dry, the dogs padded off to the den, most likely to sleep for the next couple of hours.

He dried the floor and stripped from his wet clothes, making a pile on the ceramic tile rather than drip water through the house, then scooped it all up and headed for the stairs. On his way he stopped to give her a chaste kiss and said, "I'm going to shower and dress, then I'll be back down." At her nod he headed up and left her to her anticipate the conversation that would to follow his return.

**A/N: Please review! I'm a bit of an email stalker and it makes my day when you guys respond and let me know what is working for you, or upcoming plot points you are curious about. Thank you!**

**A/N: BETA needed. Not only am I doing this for fun, I'm also trying to improve my writing skills. I haven't had a lot of luck getting a beta reader through the site, but if you are interested please PM me (don't put it in a review). I'm looking for someone who has strong skills in creative writing and can not only proofread, but can (somewhat kindly) point out how I could improve. My goal is to post a chapter a week, so I need someone who can respond to a new chapter within a couple of days, giving me time to make changes. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone that let me know how happy you were to see the sequel up and running! I thrive on your encouragement and will do my best to deliver in a way that makes you happy. A huge thank you to nevertothethird for beta reading this chapter—your suggestions have made it a better read and the overall story stronger. Also, this disclaimer thing...I own nothing and unless I tell you otherwise you can assume the planets haven't aligned and I still own nothing for the rest of this fic.  
**

**You are getting this one a little early because I have a huge weekend ahead of me and otherwise wouldn't be able to post until late late Sunday at the earliest.**

Chapter 2

Logan stood under the hot spray of the shower, using the time to calm down before he faced her again. The exercise had helped release a lot of his tension, but when he came in from his run and saw how stiffly she moved trying to dry off Hat, it had just raised his ire again.

He'd been so damn happy last night when he'd heard the dogs get up and pad down the stairs just as he was about to drift off to sleep. Their rising meant someone was in the house, and the absence of barking could only mean one thing; Veronica was finally home. He had grinned and waited impatiently as she made her way up the stairs, impressed at her stealth. If she had been just five minutes later he never would have woken up. The lowering of a zipper was the only sound he'd heard, and she was so slight that when she had climbed into bed, he'd barely noticed.

After their usual bantering, his hand had been moving toward her breast to initiate her homecoming when he'd heard her gasp. He knew all her sounds and that one was of pain, not pleasure. Veronica did her best to deflect his concern, as if he was that stupid. He hadn't given a damn if she was tired, he'd had to know.

She had looked like hell last night; he couldn't get the image out of his head. The dark circles under her eyes had told their own tale, but were of lesser importance than her other injuries. He'd taken enough punches to know much pain she was in, and that her ribs would cause her trouble for at least a couple of weeks.

Four years ago Logan had promised to be understanding about her job. Promised to accept the danger she faced, even when it made him crazy. Adam and Veronica were sensitive to his request to stop replaying their more risky ventures when he was around, but he'd heard enough give him daymares. She bore the scars of a couple of seriously bad days at work, but it had been a long time since he'd actually seen her with fresh damage. Not since she cut her hand fighting that guy in Oregon, and at least he'd been there to help if she'd needed him. All this time Logan had been able to deal because he'd done his best to pretend that when she left the house, it was just for a normal workday, like anybody else. The dread he carried in his stomach when she was on assignment was his own version of Quasimodo's hump; so much a part of him he just didn't notice it anymore. But when she was in front of him, battered and broken, it was damn hard to ignore.

Too agitated to sleep, Logan had slipped out of bed, put on his workout gear and headed down the stairs. He had first bought the house just because of the excitement in Veronica's voice. It wasn't until he actually went and looked at it that he'd thought about what a pain in the ass the stairs would be. Fortunately, he had kept his opinion to himself and, since he always had energy to spare, the stairs hadn't actually been a problem.

His houses growing up were beautiful; opulent and impersonal. Very few items that weren't chosen by a decorator were allowed to be left out. After that was a hotel, a crappy apartment he spent as little time in as possible, and a couple of furnished penthouses that he threw a TV and game console into.

In contrast, their den was hung with framed posters from Veronica's favorite noir films, the kitchen counter housed the Dr. Who cookie jar Wallace had given her one Christmas, the living room bookshelves were crammed with all their favorite tomes, and the afghan her late grandmother had crocheted graced the back of the couch. The sheer number of photographs populating the shelves and wall space could make you think you were walking through a photographer's studio. Her skills had improved over the years and she rarely went anywhere without her camera so, in addition to candid pictures of everyone they knew, many artistic prints were showcased.

Once they moved in together, Logan had been surprised to discover Veronica was a bit of a pack rat, and he was constantly finding mementos that held significance for her. He thrilled whenever he stumbled over something new, feeling that he had found a hidden piece of her. Playing his own game of detective, he always tried to figure out their meaning before he asked her.

He loved the house; it was a showpiece and there was plenty of room to spread out but, more importantly, it was the first place he'd lived that felt like home. This house was where he and Veronica had become a family. If he gave it thought, he could describe a time they had fought, played, and made love in every square foot of it. Their dogs had grown from pups in these rooms, and he couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

Now grown, Hatfield and McCoy had followed him down the stairs, like always, and then curled up on their beds in the corner of the basement. The room was equipped with free weights, a spin cycle and a treadmill. He had ignored the equipment and headed to the punching bag in the corner, spending forty minutes venting his anger. His energy had been refueled every time he'd pictured the bruises marring her body, or the cast on her wrist.

Still antsy, he had leashed the dogs and taken them on a run. They needed the daily exercise as much he did so they usually pounded the pavement in a motley threesome. Hat and Mc tolerated the routine of his five mile circuit since it always ended at the dog park where they joyfully socialized and romped until he made them leave.

Veronica had not been thrilled when he had first brought the dogs home. To be fair, he'd had no idea what he had gotten them into. Aaron had never allowed him to have a pet growing up, so he was clueless how much work it would be to train them and first his attempts were half-assed. After a week, Veronica sat him down and showed him a YouTube video of a small woman being knocked down and dragged by a Great Dane. Following that, he went about the training with a new determination and it practically became his full time job for a while. But he did it on his terms...

_Veronica had to leave on assignment when the pups were five months old, and he did his best to waylay her packing, molding his body around hers while she was bent over her suitcase. She was willing, but made him stop just when things were getting interesting because the dogs were watching them. Grudgingly, he got off the bed and dragged them out of the room so she would continue, but first she made him promise the next command he taught them would be "Out"._

_The night after she got back was a busy one. Her father and Cliff came to town so they could take advantage of the Yankee season tickets he bought, and Adam and Trent came over for dinner. They brought their newly adopted son, Jack, to Logan and Veronica's house for the first time. Everyone was gathered in the living room when the Rogan family arrived and the dogs came bounding up the stairs. _

_Jack was a year-and-a-half old and had been living with Adam and Trent for only a short time. When he spotted the dogs he let out a terrified scream and started to climb Trent's legs in an attempt to get away from them. Trent scooped him up and yelled at Logan, "Can't you see he's terrified? Get them out of here!"_

_Logan, panicked by the shrill shrieks emanating from Jack, pointed at the stairs and barked his new command at the puppies, "Boys, SEX!" Hatfield and McCoy quickly scrambled over each other and down the stairs in their haste to obey._

_The silence that followed this performance was deafening. Logan wasn't sure who to look at first, but figured Cliff was his safest bet. The lawyer cocked an eyebrow, obviously trying to keep a straight face while he saw how this played out. Trent was so focused on comforting Jack he hadn't even noticed, but his husband sure the hell had. Adam's grin was huge as he looked at Logan, and grew as Veronica punched Logan's shoulder, then muttered "Jackass" before stomping downstairs to the kitchen. But the person Logan was most afraid of looking at was Keith Mars. He had fully intended to also teach the puppies the more traditional "Out" command but wanted to have his fun first. In his haste to make Jack stop screaming, he had reacted instinctively._

_Logan turned to look at the Sheriff, and was relieved to see Keith was florid and obviously choking back laughter. With a sigh of relief, he went to help Veronica in the kitchen. The gaffe quickly became family lore and was retold more than a few times. Especially when Jack pointed at every dog and yelled "SEX!" for months after._

The hot shower served its purpose, and he was in a much better frame of mind when he went down to find Veronica. The kitchen was empty, but she had brewed a pot of coffee and arranged a plate of bagels and fruit for them to share, all stuff that was easy to prepare one-handed. His stomach growling at just the sight of food, he grabbed a bagel and poured himself a cup of coffee, then went through the dining room to find her in the den. She was lying on the floor pillows with Hat and Mc, the three of them fast asleep. The incongruous picture of his family made him smile, and he tiptoed quietly to the couch so as not to wake them.

Unfortunately, the dogs moved at his entrance and caused Veronica to wake, albeit with a groggy smile on her face. "God, it's good to be home. I even missed the smell of wet dog," she confessed.

Logan smiled reluctantly and took a seat on the couch. "They missed you too. Every night they lay by the door waiting for you. I practically had to drag them up to bed."

Disentangling herself from the mutts, Veronica slowly got to her feet. He didn't miss her expression of pain, or the tender way she moved when she walked. It was all ammunition for the silent fight he had with her in his imagination over and over again. Instead he had to settle for calmly entreating, "Veronica, tell me what happened last night."

She came over and settled into the couch, using a couple of throw pillows to prop up her heavy cast, before explaining, "Things came to a head. Adam and a couple of other agents were cuffing their collars when mine decided to get feisty."

Logan waited for more, then prompted, "Feisty how?"

With a sigh Veronica asked, "Does it matter?" His only answer was a stare so she rolled her eyes and expanded on her story. "We fought, I took him down, and Adam cuffed him. All's well that ends well."

Logan's stomach churned at the picture she painted, and the worse one he imagined; the one where it didn't end well. He jumped off the couch and started pacing in front of her. "I don't call a broken wrist and bruised ribs ending well, Veronica. What if he'd had a gun?" he challenged.

She sighed heavily and tipped her head back to rest against the couch, then closed her eyes. Her voice sounded as weary as she looked. "Logan, I can't 'what if' in this job. It would make me crazy. Please stop; your pacing is making me dizzy."

Her refusal to fight back just infuriated him more. "Too bad. You come home hurt and this is what you get. I can't keep pretending the danger in your job doesn't bother me."

He waited impatiently for her response, and felt anxious when she stayed quiet, eyes closed. It was so far out of character, he began to wonder if she was hurt worse than he knew. But it was obvious she was just unmoved by his anxiety when she opened her eyes and fixed him with a stare, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

"Do they teach editors to pretend? Because you suck at it."

"And if that was supposed to make me feel better, you suck at it," he shot back.

Veronica rolled her eyes, her glibness gone for the moment, and stated, "Logan, I'm not asking you to pretend anything. But I'm the one that got hurt, not you, and it's not even that bad. You know that my job comes with occasional risks. Very occasional. I thought you were okay with that."

"Today, I'm really not," he countered.

She bequeathed him another eye as roll she started to get off the couch. It was obvious how much pain she was in and he moved to help. With an arm around her waist, he slowly aided her to her feet and asked, "What do you need? I'll get it for you."

"I need to take one of the Vicodin the doctor gave me, and then get ready for work," Veronica explained as she leaned against him for so she could stand.

Logan froze where he was, still supporting her, and objected, "The fuck you do!"

Finally standing, Veronica turned and faced him. "Director David called me himself, while you were in the shower. Something important has come up. They need me to come in. I'm doing this with or without your help. Without will take longer."

"Did you just quote goddamn _Titanic _at me?" he asked, incredulous. He was already irritated and knew she only brought out that damn movie to taunt him.

Veronica just grinned and moved slowly toward the stairs, and he followed her like she knew he would. When it came to her job, she was going to make him stick to his promise to deal with it. And it wasn't like he could hire a bodyguard to tail her this time; he would just have to put his faith in her and Adam to get her home safely. But he could demand some small concessions.

After helping her shower and dress, he insisted on accompanying her in a cab to the FBI office, then informed her she got one hour, no more, and he would be back to pick her up.

**A/N: As always, they call it feedback for a reason. So Feed Me some reviews! I'd love to know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: You guys overwhelmed me with all the positive reviews. I can't thank you enough. Every time I opened my inbox and found a new one I was seriously giddy. There may have been a bad imitation of the Snoopy Dance happening by my desk at work. For those begging for updates, I swear I'm getting the chapters to you as quickly as I can. And if you are enjoying the way this is playing out props go to the best in the betaverse, nevertothethird. That gal makes me THINK! **

Chapter 3

The Vicodin had taken the edge off her pain but Veronica still winced as she made her way through security and to her desk. Adam, already at work on his computer, greeted her with surprise and concern when she came in.

He jumped up and helped her sit carefully in her chair, trying to jostle her as little as possible. "Rover? What the hell are you doing here? I told you I would take care of the reports and email them to you."

Once settled she gave a sigh and shrugged. "I figured you would know. Director David called me about this new case. He made it seem so urgent that I faced the wrath of Echolls to get here."

"Not thrilled another man got his hands on you, eh?"

Adam's wry smile and attempt at wit had no audience. Veronica knew how much last night's incident had upset Logan, and she had used up all her humor trying to keep him calm. Right now she just wanted her guy and her bed, in that order; not even a bull session with Adam held any allure. "Not the hands so much as the fists. He only gave me an hour; he's meeting me downstairs. What's going on?"

"Damned if I know. Murphy had a break in that case he and I worked a few months ago; I'm heading out to Atlantic City in a couple of hours."

_Crap._ Though she and Adam predominately worked cases together, they had been separated on more than a few occasions. Since Jerry had retired and Marjorie had transferred to Atlanta, there weren't many agents left that Veronica enjoyed working with, or trusted. Most of them had a penchant for following the rules, and were so boring that stakeouts felt like she'd been taken hostage and forced to stay awake watching PBS during pledge week.

Adam walked her to Director David's office, and she promised to find him before she left. Once settled in a chair, Director David explained the summons with his usual formality. "Agent Mars, I'm sorry to bring you in like this, but your situation has afforded us a unique opportunity. You're free to turn it down, but I'd like you to hear me out first."

At her nod he continued. "We have a new agent starting today, just transferred from the Austin office. He has an impressive resume, but I want him field tested with one of my own before I give him a big assignment. His—"

A knock pulled their attention to the door. A blond man in his late twenties with hazel eyes, a couple inches shy of six feet tall, and a stocky, muscular build entered. Veronica started in her chair, then cursed under her breath when her ribs protested the sudden movement.

"Hi, is this a good time?" the blonde guy asked, looking at Director David.

David stood and waved him in before getting down to the pairing of the new team. "Agent Dragan, come in. I believe you two know each other since you were in the same class at Quantico."

The young man looked at her in surprise, then smiled, came toward her and teased, "Veronica Mars. Don't you remember that self-defense class we took? Of all the ways you can stop a fist, your face is the _last_ resort."

Veronica grinned and scratched the side of her nose with her extended middle finger, subtly flipping him off. "Jason Dragan, if your face had been there, I promise I would have used it first."

Jason's smile morphed into a smirk as he shook her hand, creating the picture of camaraderie. Director David looked between the two of them. "Do you two want to talk about this case or are we filming a beer commercial?"

"Sorry, sir." Jason settled into the other chair, all business as he focused on their boss. Veronica took the file Director David handed to her, flipping through it as he went over the details.

"Eleven months ago, here in New York, a man reported his wife went missing. Not long after, the case was dismissed when he received a letter explaining she'd left him. Her body was recently found in India. The medical examiner reported she'd been repeatedly beaten and raped. At the time of her disappearance the police received an anonymous tip that, before she vanished, she'd been seen at a local shelter for abuse victims."

Jason leaned so he could peruse the file over Veronica's shoulder as they listened. "The woman's name was Susan Jameson. She was raised in the foster system and married when she was just twenty, then she moved here with her husband two years ago. She had no family to speak of, no close friends, and no money. Neither she nor her husband had never been issued a passport."

The file was thin, containing a picture of a young woman in her mid-twenties with blond hair, blue eyes and delicate features, as well as several hospital records that detailed the abuse she'd suffered since getting married five years ago. At the back were pictures of the body and police report, translated into English, describing how and where Susan Jameson was discovered.

"So how did she end up in India? Human trafficking?" Veronica asked, the familiar burn of curiosity going through her.

"That's the most likely scenario," David handed each of them another file. "One of our more industrious interns found reports for two other women reported missing in the past three years. Both were known to frequent the same shelter."

All the pieces fell into place for Veronica. It wasn't hard to see what her role would be in all this. "You want me to use my injuries as a ticket into a shelter for abuse victims, and figure out what happened to these women."

"Exactly." David's look was grim "The other two missing women complete the profile. Early to mid-twenties, petite, no close ties, no children. Each was reported missing, but their cases were closed when their husbands received handwritten letters explaining they'd left by choice."

Veronica knew she fit the physical profile perfectly. With her injuries she was the perfect choice to go, but those selling points were also a detriment to her abilities. Before she could voice the thought, Jason did it himself.

"What's the plan, sir? I obviously can't enter the shelter but, in her condition, is it safe to send Agent Mars in alone?"

David folded his hands on the desk and leaned toward them both, his expression grave. "We have no evidence that ties the shelter, or anyone there, to Susan Jameson's death. Mars, this would be light duty; going by the shelter every day or two for a short time. Sell your story, but don't take any risks. Just see what you come up with. Dragan, she'll be wearing a wire and your job will be to sit a in surveillance vehicle nearby. You'll record everything and make sure she stays out of trouble."

His gaze moved to focus solely on Veronica, and she read the question in it. _Your mission, should you choose to accept it… _She didn't have to take this case. She could take the time to stay home and heal, to ease Logan's mind and to relax into her life for a few weeks. But a second look at Susan Jameson's photograph had her asking, "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow. Think through your cover story tonight; Dragan can get started on the research today, find out as much as possible about what you're walking into. Investigate the shelter's history, run employee background checks, etc."

"Yes, sir." Veronica stood slowly, trying not to show too many signs of discomfort. Jason moved as if to help but she held up a hand in protest. It took her a couple seconds longer alone, but if she was going to pull off this assignment she would have to deal. Exiting through the door Jason held open, she turned to face him once they were alone in the hallway.

"Well." She managed an entire conversation with that one word.

Jason chuckled and looked down at her, his hands on his hips. "Is this going to be okay? Us working together?"

Veronica thought for a moment. Their history was uncomplicated, friendly, and a long time ago. There was no rancor between them, nor cause for awkwardness. Though they had never worked together, she remembered him being dependable in every training exercise. "Definitely. See you tomorrow."

Jason raised his eyebrows and pointed to her bruises and scrapes. "Which is when I'm going to hear about all this, right? And who the hell chooses a black cast?"

Veronica rolled her eyes in response. "Duh. It hides the blood of the victims I beat with it."

"Right," Jason drawled, drawing out the word so it lasted twice as long as it should. "Do you need help getting downstairs?"

She glanced at the wall clock behind his head and realized she had only ten minutes before Logan was going to pick her up. He was upset enough about what had happened, and now she had to tell him she was going right back to work. Throwing Jason into that mix would be too much, so she shook her head and, catching sight of Adam walking up the hall, she waved him over.

The introductions made, Adam then accompanied her downstairs while Jason went to settle into Jerry's old desk. As they rode in the elevator Adam was quiet, a frown creasing his forehead. Veronica nudged him with her toe and probed, "You're thinking awfully hard."

"It's something I do before I speak… I've heard that name before. Jason Dragan, Jason Dragan—kind of rolls off the tongue…" Adam's voice trailed off as a look of comprehension crossed his face.

_Busted_. Damn long night stakeouts. Adam was a genius at getting her to talk, and one night she'd told him about Jason. She had been twenty-three and celibate for far too long, but not looking for a relationship. He was a nice guy, attractive, and able to keep a secret. They'd spent two months sleeping together, then went their separate ways after graduation. The only thing she regretted was telling Adam about it.

Adam looked at her and started laughing. "Isn't it fun when casual sex comes back to bite you in the ass?"

"Not really," It was exhausting just thinking about how much fodder for teasing he would get from this.

"I meant fun for me," Adam leered, letting her know that, indeed, this was only the beginning of his taunts.

They exited the elevator and she could see Logan standing outside waiting for her. Quickly she turned to Adam and ordered, "Let it go. It was a no drama fling, there's no need for drama now. Clear?"

His smirk was irritating as hell, but not as much as when he sing-songed, "You're not gonna tell Logan."

"Not unless he asks. Would you?" Veronica asked sardonically.

Adam laughed. "Hell, no. That's not to say you shouldn't, but hey, it's your bad decision, not mine." He leaned down and gave her a brief one-sided hug before heading back to the elevator.

* * *

Logan waited impatiently outside of the FBI office. He couldn't believe they had asked her to come in after everything she had been through in the fucking 'line of duty' last night. He glanced at his watch and was about to head inside when he saw Veronica walking stiffly toward him, so stepped into the street to hail a cab instead.

She started to doze off in the taxi and, the minute they got home, Logan ordered her straight up to bed. After he helped her climb the stairs and undress, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into bed with her. He curved his body around hers and started playing with her hair.

"Tell me about you. I was gone two weeks, catch me up," she commanded.

Logan gave a low laugh. "There's precious little to tell. Went windsurfing a few times, but mostly I worked. Charlie came over to supposedly help, but really he just wanted to play with the dogs. So I kicked them all out to go play at the park. Have you noticed how _Chawie_ talks in a baby voice to them? I swear he'd kill us if he thought he'd get guardianship."

Veronica's chuckle was evidence of her agreement. "Yeah, well, I'll take that over pissed off ex-boyfriend, if you don't mind." As she dozed off, he thought about what she'd said, and had to agree. Their relationship with Charlie McGeary had come a long way, due in no small part to the dogs…

_Logan hung up with the real estate agent after putting his bid in on the place Veronica so badly wanted. Her fast babbling had been indecipherable, but he knew it would take a hell of a house to get her that riled up. He couldn't resist the opportunity to make her happy. _

_He heard a knock at the door and looked up to see his boss Elaine standing tentatively in the doorway. "Logan, do you have a sec?"_

"_Yeah, of course," he answered, and then jumped up to clear a chair that was covered with manuscripts. "What's up?"_

_She settled in the chair while he perched on the edge of the desk and waited. Elaine rarely needed to talk to him, and she had never come to his office for that purpose. The nervousness she was exhibiting had him wondering; she was about the most confident person he knew._

"_Logan, it's about Charlie McGeary." She saw his frown and nodded, then continued, "I know about your personal situation, but we have a professional problem."_

_He leaned back on the desk and crossed his arms. "And I can't help you. He's made it clear he doesn't want to work with me. And I don't blame him."_

"_The problem is, he hasn't been able to work with anybody else. He went through three editors before he and Judith hit it off, and then when you took over for her it was seamless," Elaine reminded him._

_Logan scoffed at that, "Seamless? He stormed out of my office more times than I can count. We fought about the book almost every day. Then, there was that little matter of us loving the same woman." Elaine was one of the few people that had been privy to what had happened between him, Veronica and Charlie. _

_She was persistent; he had to give her that. "You know how protective he is of his work, and no one else has been able to handle him on this new book. Now I have five editors that refuse to work with him, instead of three. I need you."_

"_I'm not the problem," Logan tried to explain. "He's the one who refuses to work with me."_

_A small smile crossed her lips before. "Well, I got him to agree to a meet. He'll be here in an hour."_

_The small surge of hope that fluttered in Logan's chest had him grinning at her. She got up with a nod and left his office, leaving him to stew for the next hour. He left and took a walk, knowing he'd never be able to get any work done, but spent the time checking his watch repeatedly to make sure he wasn't late getting back._

_Charlie stiffly walked in at the appointed time, and the two of them stared at each other. Circumstances, and a year of silence, lent a tense atmosphere to the room. Figuring Charlie had been the wronged party in the events last year, Logan felt it was his responsibility to make the first move._

_He stood and walked around the desk, then quietly said, "Charlie, it's good to see you."_

_Making no move to come into the office, Charlie remained by the door. _"_I wish I could say the same. I'm only here under Elaine's orders. I owe her, but I don't owe you a thing. This meeting is pointless; it won't fix anything."_

"_Fair enough, but for what it's worth, I'd like to try. Professionally, if nothing else." Charlie's animosity was no surprise, but it dampened the spark of possibility Logan had nursed for the last hour._

_Charlie stood there silently for a moment, then cocked his head and asked, "Did you read the rough draft?"_

"_No," Logan shook his head. "But if you say it's okay, I will tomorrow."_

_The sneer Charlie offered brought his bitterness to the forefront again. "Busy tonight? One year anniversary and all that?"_

_Logan was confused. Anniversary of what? Then everything fell into place and he quickly stood up as he protested, "No, Charlie, that's not how it went down. After Oregon I didn't see or hear from Veronica for over three months."_

_This time it was Charlie's turn to look confused. "But we broke up. And you knew that."_

"_Yeah," Logan enunciated the word slowly. "And she knew how I felt. I figured her silence spoke loud and clear. It was over three months before she contacted me."_

"_But what took her so long?" _

_Logan sighed and gave the other man a pointed look. He stepped back to again perch on his desk and crossed his arms. "She didn't tell me much, but I gather you're not an easy guy to get over. She loved you, Charlie."_

_"But not like she loved you." Charlie's voice was flat, long since having accepted this fact._

"_I'm not going to apologize for that, though I am sorry you got hurt. We both are."_

_Charlie nodded, and then turned to leave. Before he walked out, he threw over his shoulder, "Read it. I'll come back on Friday."_

_Logan read the book, and loved it; there was more action and dark wit that Charlie's previous works. The two of them worked together on the editing for the next few months, always in his office. Most authors would just take his notes and do the work themselves, but Charlie required a more hands on approach, so they logged a lot of hours together. _

_The first thing Logan noticed about the manuscript was that it was computer generated. Charlie had been adamantly anti-tech, refusing to use a computer for either research or word processing. He had always done a rough draft in long hand, then a second draft on the typewriter, claiming, 'If it was good enough for Twain, Hemingway and London, its good enough for me.'_

_When he questioned Charlie, the man confessed he had spent the last year taking computer classes, and had bought a laptop and printer. Mainly because some asshole had put him on the spot for his lack of tech knowledge. Since Logan knew he was the asshole in question, he wisely dropped the subject and got back to work, making a silent vow to stay away from topics even remotely personal._

_As predicted, they did have a lot of fights about the book. Yet, despite their personal differences, they shared a vision for the story and their fights were a part of the process they had developed when they worked together before. Charlie always protested Logan's ideas until he'd had a chance to process them and, more often than not, he would agree. The night they finished the final edit, it was eleven o'clock when Logan finally threw down the red pencil and proclaimed, "Done."_

_Charlie looked up from his laptop where he had input the final change, and tiredly declared, "Thank. The. Fuck."_

_Logan smirked. "That was colorful. Mind if I quote you on that?"_

_A tired chuckle emphasized the fatigue evident in Charlie's face. "Why not? I'd be honored to be a part of your repartee."_

_They exchanged an amused look before Logan broke away to gather all the papers strewn around him. "Anyway, throw it on the flash drive and I'll do a final proofread before we send it off for galleys. I'll call you when they're done. Until then…"_

_Charlie didn't move, just looked at him like he was working up the nerve to say something. After several tense moments he finally came out with it. "Logan, how's Veronica?"_

_Logan met the other man's gaze and understood the nervousness in his tone, so tried to phrase his response as neutrally as possible. "Good. Busy. She's been gone for about a week on assignment."_

"_And the two of you? How is that going?"_

_He was surprised, and wary. Was Charlie looking for an opening, or just curious? "We're really good. We fight, and we make each other crazy, and it's the best it's ever been. She's been hinting that she wants a dog ever since we bought a house."_

_Charlie stood up and walked over to the window. His back was turned when he admitted, "I was so mad at the two of you for so long. But, finding out she didn't go straight to you after we broke up, it helped."_

_When Logan was silent, Charlie turned and faced him, leaning his back against the wall beside the window. "I took off that night, after I punched you. Took a road trip and ended up in Montana where my friend Annabelle lives. Poured my heart out, told her everything."_

_Logan leaned back on the couch. He remembered Annabelle had been Charlie's ex, and had been friends with both Charlie and Veronica before she moved. "And what did she say?"_

"_That if I'd been looking, the warning signs were there. Veronica never talked about her past, and we never talked about our future. Three years together and we never talked marriage, kids, houses, or even dogs. And we never fought." Charlie gave Logan a wry smile. "Apparently that had more significance than I realized at the time."_

"_What are you saying, Charlie?" _

"_I'm saying that I get it. And if you want to hang out once in a while, you should call me. Though I'm not ready to see Veronica yet."_

_So, they got together several times over the next few months, only the two of them and never at Logan and Veronica's house. Charlie was dating again, though he hadn't met anybody that mattered. Then, during lunch on a Friday afternoon, Logan risked ruining their budding friendship by offering a crazy idea. He took a deep breath before he made his proposal." Charlie, can I talk to you about something out of left field?" he asked._

"_I didn't grow up in America. You might have better luck with a cricket analogy."_

_Logan ignored the joke and took another big breath, steeling himself. "It's about your book."_

"_It's a little late for an editing change."_

_If he was looking for an opening, he wasn't going to get a better one, so he forged ahead. "Actually, it's not."_

_"What the hell are you driving at Logan?"_

"_Ok, something has been on my mind since I first read your book. I'm a child of the movies, as you know. And your book would make a hell of a screenplay. I'm sure you've had offers."_

_Charlie rolled his eyes and nodded. "Offers my agent is begging me to accept. But I tried that once. They wanted to change everything. No fucking way. If people want to know the story, they can damn well read it." _

_His heart pounding in his chest, Logan reached into his bag and pulled out the screen play he had spent months working on. He held out the envelope like it contained Anthrax. "I tried my hand at it, and left it as intact as possible for a two hour movie. With one big difference. If you hate it, we'll burn it in my fireplace together."_

_Charlie took it like he _knew _it contained_ _Anthrax. "What big difference?"_

"_Charlie, just read it. Please," Logan practically begged. The fights they'd had over his editing even a paragraph of Charlie's books were office legend. He feared that manhandling Charlie's entire masterpiece and handing it back to him could ruin all the progress they had made these past months. _

_After Charlie agreed, they ended the lunch on a strained note. Logan went back to his office and got nothing done, just stared at the phone, waiting for it to ring. He finally gave up and went home to play with the puppies. They were almost five months old, ornery as hell, and completely hilarious. They were growing so fast it made them clumsy and awkward, but their intelligence was obvious. Both were completely housebroken and getting the hang of sit, down, stay, and lay down. The next one they were focusing on was shake, before he moved into the more complicated, but cooler, high-five. And they were great at taking his mind off whatever was stressing him out. _

_The only source of contention was Hatfield's love of shoes. McCoy was satisfied with the bones and toys he was given, but Hatfield would devour any shoe that was left in his vicinity. They had to be diligent about keeping their closets closed or he would go into high destructive mode._

_Saturday morning, Logan did his best to keep himself busy so he wouldn't focus so much on Charlie. Veronica was working, so he spent the morning alone taking the dogs for a run, carrying a load to the dry cleaners, and doing some grocery shopping. Around noon he heard the doorbell ring and found Charlie on the front stoop, the screen play in hand._

_After inviting him in, Logan nervously joked, "Come to take me up on that fireplace?"_

_"I hope you don't mind my dropping by. I figured out which house it was from your description." _

_Logan glared at him, completely out of patience with the small talk. "You're killing me, Smalls."_

"_It's good," Charlie grinned. "Really good. I don't know movies, but you kept the best parts of the book. And changing who the killer is? You played that brilliantly, everyone will be blown away."_

"_You don't mind the way I added the dialogue?" Logan ventured, trying to find the inevitable flaw._

"_No! Since so much of the book takes place in Anthony's head, you had to find another way to convey what he was thinking. It totally worked."_

_The high pitched yelps that were coming from the terrace finally penetrated Logan's euphoria. He had shut the pups out before he answered the door; they tended to get overexcited greeting guests so it was safer to lock them out until their training came farther along. _

_He grinned at Charlie. "So, want to meet the latest additions to the family?"_

_Charlie fell in love with the dogs. Both of them got so caught up petting and playing with them they didn't hear Veronica come in through the kitchen until she yelled, "Logan Fucking Echolls!" Charlie froze on the far side of the couch, crouched on the floor, holding down McCoy where they were wrestling._

_Logan jumped up as she pounded up the stairs, and caught the half-chewed black boot she lobbed at him. "I know I left the closet door closed!" Her face was flushed with anger, her eyes sparked and her body was coiled to spring if he said one wrong thing. "These were brand new."_

_He smacked his head in an exaggerated expression of stupidity, "Right! The closet. Must have left it open when I grabbed the dry cleaning." He examined the boot in his hand and grinned, "On the bright side, he seems to be limiting himself to the cheap vinyl crap. You know, just because you're a public servant doesn't mean you have to dress like one." _

"_Laugh it up, Chuckles McSnobby. But if you know what's good for you, you'll go up there before I do, and see what else he destroyed." Her warning tone had him moving toward the stairs, but he promised himself that next time they were alone, he would intentionally feed Hat another pair.  
_

_Charlie chose that moment to poke his head out from the behind the couch, a sardonic grin on his face. "So, this is what happily ever looks like?"_

_After that Charlie practically became a fixture at their house, constantly finding some excuse to come over so he could play with the dogs. Mostly when Veronica was gone, but after a while they grew less awkward with each other and he stopped avoiding her._

_The big change came when Veronica and Logan threw a small Christmas party and reintroduced Charlie and Henrietta. Henry and Logan had gone on exactly one date more than two years before and had been friends ever since. All Henry had to do was whisper five magic words at Charlie, "I don't own a television," and he was twitterpated. They were currently planning a wedding for next spring. _

_Charlie's agent found a studio willing to make a movie from Logan's screenplay, and it was a huge success. The year it was released Logan won an Oscar for best adapted screenplay and became Hollywood's Golden Child, The Comeback Kid. He had a brief resurgence of fame and, though he hated the attention, he loved his new career. Since Charlie's movie he had written original screen plays for three others that got produced, one a smash, another not—it was declared 'too dark', and the third currently in post-production. But that first screenplay marked the beginning of a collaboration. Now Logan still edited Charlie's books, but only Charlie's books. And he got first crack at writing any screen play adaptations of books Charlie authored, one of which he was working on right now…_

Once Veronica was asleep Logan went to work in his office across the hall but, after an hour of not accomplishing anything, he went back to check on her. She was lying on her back, her hair splayed out on the pillow behind her. The sheet had slipped down to her waist; gray sunlight from the window highlighted her paleness and made the bruises on her ribs, arm, and cheek stand out in stark contrast to her alabaster skin. Her breasts were youthful and pert, her stomach taut, and her arms toned—the picture of strength and youth. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth slack, lips looking almost purple in the dim light. He settled into the overstuffed armchair across from their bed and watched her, sending a silent prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening that she had come home to him, intact.

**A/N I don't generally like to give out plot points, but I was warned that ya'll would be worried I was setting this up to be a love triangle by bringing Jason in. The answer to that is NO I am not-that would be boring and pointless-Jason wouldn't stand a chance.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So again, a thank you to everyone who is reading. Seeing how many people come back to check out the new chapters, and especially your reviews, are what keep me going on this story. I promise you there is so much planned, a lot of which hasn't even been hinted at yet, that I can't wait to share it with you. **

Chapter 4

Veronica woke up several hours later to see Logan sleeping in the chair across from their bed. His legs were splayed out, his feet rested on the bed, and his head was thrown back with his mouth open. She smiled at the sight, her serious mood from the morning gone. His hair was a bit shaggy, a day's worth of stubble added an attractive rakishness to his face, and the black v-neck tee showed off his well-defined torso and arms. He was gorgeous, and hers, and she had missed him so damn much.

Trying not to wake him, she slowly climbed out of bed and slipped into a flannel that buttoned up the front and a pair of sweats before she picked up her camera off the dresser. She took several shots before putting it down and making her way over to the chair. Holding her hair out of the way so it wouldn't tickle him awake, Veronica put her lips against his exposed neck and sucked, hard. After a moment of pressure he instinctively put up his hands to push her away.

She jumped back, groaning at the pain to her ribs, then laughed at his confused expression. "Hey there, Sunshine. Planning to sleep the day away?"

"You started it," he grumbled, getting up and heading toward the bathroom. While she waited, she heard the toilet flush and the water from the sink run, then him yell, "What the hell?!"

Choking back a laugh as he opened the door and glared at her, she tried her best to look innocent. "Hickey's are no fair when I'm not even getting laid. You're going to pay for that one."

She put her open hand over her mouth and faked a huge yawn. "Idle threats, Echolls. You wouldn't lay a finger on a woman in my condition."

"You know I'd lay a lot more than a finger on you in almost any condition. Your ribs are your only saving grace at the moment, but they'll heal."

Veronica felt a thrill go through her at the promise. It was going to be a long couple of weeks until she was healed enough for him to make good on it. "Yeah well, until then, didn't you say something about taking care of me? 'Cause this," she pointed at her stomach, "ain't gonna feed itself."

With all seriousness Logan walked up to her, put his hands on her hips, and looked deep into her eyes. "We've been together long enough. I think I'm ready to know. Is this," he moved his hand to her stomach, "a tapeworm, or an alien parasite?"

She laughed and lightly pushed him a way, wincing at the pain that sliced through her at the movement. Already she was bored with trying to remember to be careful. "Both. And the three of are starving. What are you going to do about it?"

"Hire a cook since feeding you is a full time job. But until then, I have the fixings for a grilled chicken Caesar salad. Will that do?"

At her happy smile they went downstairs and she perched on a barstool while he mixed the ingredients for their dinner. Once he had served them and was sitting with her at the breakfast bar, he hesitantly asked, "So, why did you get called in today?"

This was the conversation she had been dreading, for so many reasons. She couldn't disclose the nature of the case, but she also didn't want him to worry. The change in partners, even if it weren't Jason, would upset him. Before she could decide what to disclose he threw down his fork. "Knock it off."

"Knock what off?" she asked, confused.

"Knock off trying to filter out what you don't want me to know. Don't bullshit me, Veronica."

"Fine. There is a case. I'm the perfect candidate for an undercover agent. I start tomorrow," she confessed, trying to get away with as little information as possible.

He stood up and started pacing the room angrily, much as he had that morning. "Who cares if you're the best choice? You are nowhere near field ready, and won't be for several weeks. Tell them no."

"Logan, it's just recon. I'm not doing anything dangerous. And, in this case, my injuries lend credence to my cover. I already said yes." This was her job and her decision, and he needed to understand it wasn't up for debate.

With a sigh he stopped pacing and put his hands on his hips, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "Nothing I say will make a difference, will it?"

Veronica shook her head. She wasn't oblivious to how he worried but, just because she was sporting visible evidence of the risk she faced on a daily basis, nothing had changed. It was the same work she'd been doing for seven years. He needed to remember that.

"This is the job. You said you supported that, and I'm counting on you to keep doing so." Veronica slid off the stool and came over to him. She placed her hands in his, pulling them off his hips, and rested her forehead against his chest. "You love me, and this is part of who I am."

He took his hands from hers and moved them to cup her jaw, lifting her head until he could look in her eyes. "Nothing dangerous while you're hurt. Promise?" His question was more of a demand, but she understood the care behind it so nodded.

They finished their dinner and spent the rest of the evening on the couch reading, sharing a particularly funny or well written passage aloud once in a while. They didn't discuss her job further, and she didn't bring up the subject of Jason. With luck they would finish this assignment quickly, and she would be back working with Adam.

* * *

Veronica received a text from Jason that she didn't have to be at work until noon, so slept late the next morning. Logan was sweet and caring, again helping her shower and dress since it hurt to lift her arms over her head or bend too far in any direction. He called her a cab, walked her out when it arrived, and made her promise she would call when she was on her way home so he could be sure to be there.

Once she reached work, Veronica and Jason had a brief meeting with Director David. She laid out her cover story, and they helped her refine until they were all satisfied, then Jason filled them in on his part. He had researched the shelter and found it offered a limited number of beds for women who needed a place to stay, a drop-in group counseling session every morning from eight to eleven, and two full time counselors on staff, as well as several volunteers, to try and safely guide women in abusive relationships. The place was underfunded; the little it received all came from private donors, and it had had more stories of heartbreak than success.

Jason and Veronica were strictly professional, neither bringing up their past relationship. After she was equipped with a wire, Jason requisitioned a surveillance van and drove them around the corner from the shelter. The neighborhood was modest, just this side of seedy. The faces on the streets were a mix of all races, but she noticed a slight prominence of blacks and Hispanics. Veronica was thankful she had always insisted on purchasing her own clothes for work rather than giving in to Logan's platinum ideas of acceptable fashion. The faded and worn Aeropostale jeans and Old Navy tee she wore under a generic hoody wouldn't bring any unwanted attention. She had foregone makeup to leave her bruises uncovered, but also because she knew it made her look considerably younger than her thirty years.

As Veronica poised to get out of the van, Jason put his hand on her arm. "Be careful, V."

She looked down at his hand, then shot him a look, one eyebrow raised. Wordlessly he grinned, held up both his hands, then shut the door behind her after she gingerly stepped out. Doing her best to hide her face under the hood of her sweatshirt, she shoved her hands deep in her pockets and made her way to the shelter. She kept her eyes down and didn't make contact with anybody, but catalogued the neighborhood as she went. There were the usual pedestrians going about their day, as well as a couple of gray haired men sitting on a stoop talking. On the corner, across the street from the shelter, stood a group of about six young men all in their late teens to early twenties, laughing and smoking in front of a corner grocery.

The shelter itself was almost unnoticeable. It was located in a basic storefront with blinds covering the window so you couldn't see in. The building was three stories tall, and she knew from Jason's research that the top two stories were apartments that had been converted into dormitories. A modest sign in the window simply declared it 'The Haven'.

Veronica opened the door and walked into a large, dingy room containing worn out couches along the walls, folding chairs set up in a large circle in the middle of the room, and a beat up receptionist desk directly across from the door. There were two offices at the back of the room, both with their doors closed. Though there were a few women scattered around, the receptionist's desk was empty so she waited to see if someone would greet her.

One of the women rose from the couch and approached her. She was a pretty, heavyset woman in her late forties with short, curly brown hair that was shot with gray. Her clothing was modest, and a bit staid. A polyester skirt and acrylic cardigan over a cotton button-up blouse, all of poor quality, in various shades of brown and beige. Her smile was warm as she greeted Veronica. "Hi, I'm Pauline, a counselor here. What can I do for you?"

In a calculated move, Veronica used her casted arm to push back her hood and expose her face. "I was hoping I could talk to somebody?"

Pauline took in her battered appearance and nodded knowingly. She turned and led Veronica back toward an office, closed the door and made sure they were settled into the couch before she started talking.

"Can I know your name?" Pauline asked.

Veronica was perched on the edge of the couch with her elbows resting on her knees and her hands clasped. She kept her body tense and her gaze focused on her feet, "Tammy. Tammy Turner."

"Tammy. How can I help?" Pauline's inquiry was inviting, but not demanding.

Veronica rose off the couch and stood with her back to Pauline. When using the kindness of well-meaning people to help ferret out criminals, she had to push down the guilt she always felt. Taking a moment to swallow that guilt, she then turned around and launched into her lie. "I feel like such a cliché. I don't know how I got here, and I don't know what to do._" _She conjured a few stray tears to escape her eyes.

Pauline nodded knowingly and said, "This isn't in anybody's life plan. Why don't you tell me how you broke your arm, and got that bruise."

Veronica gave a wry smile. "You do this for a living. I'm sure you won't be surprised to know it was my boyfriend. We made a deal—he promised he'd stop drinking, but the other night he came home drunk again. I got mad, and then he did this." She sniffled and wiped the tears from her face as if she were embarrassed by them. First pushing up her sleeve to show Pauline the fingerprint marks, she then raised her shirt to display the bruising on her ribs.

"Is he usually violent, or is that just when he drinks?" Pauline questioned after taking a study of her injuries.

"Violent? I mean he has a temper but… this isn't how he always is." Veronica made a point of trying to dodge the question.

Pauline's voice was firm, to match her stare. "Tammy, regardless of _how often_ he hits you, you came here, a place for women who are the victims of abuse, for a reason. How about if you tell me how long two have been together?"

Veronica had put a lot of thought into her cover story. Whenever she was working with Adam, they had a great deal of fun coming up with detailed backstories for their adopted personas. But this was practically a solo mission, and she wasn't at her best. For a long con, sticking as close to her own truth as possible was safest.

"Um…four years. I mean four years this time. We dated when we were in college." Veronica came over and sat down on the couch next to the counselor.

"What happened then?"

"My dad made me break up with him. Scott had been getting in a lot of fights and was drinking. He hit me one night…my dad went crazy when he saw the bruises."

Pauline studied her for a moment, making Veronica's heart stutter as she wondered if the woman could see through her lie. But her voice was full of compassion as she asked, "And what does your dad say now?"

"We haven't talked in more than three years. When he found out Scott and me…he said no kid of his could be that stupid, and not to come to him when I needed help." Veronica made herself a promise to add two Padre's bobble heads to her dad's collection this Christmas, rather than her usual one, for this blasphemy.

"What about other family? Or your friends?"

"No other family. I've lost touch with all my friends. Scott—he didn't like any of them. Said they were a bad influence—. They were constantly getting in trouble and I kept bailing them out." She gave herself a mental high five for the private joke. "Scott got sick of it, said our lives would be better without them."

Pauline gave a nod of acknowledgement before changing her line of inquiry. "Tammy, what is your situation now? Do you work? Do you live with Scott?"

"Um, yeah, I live with Scott. I was working, for a few years after college. But when we got back together Scott didn't—he said my career was taking too much time of my time and he wanted to support me, so I quit." Veronica knew one of the reasons women get trapped in abusive relationships was financial dependence, so this seemed like a good hand to play.

"And does he? Support you, I mean."

Veronica shrugged and nodded. "He pays the bills and buys me whatever I need. He has money and he likes to spoil me."

"Do you have your own money, or access to the bank accounts?" Pauline leaned forward toward Veronica like this was urgent.

"Um, no." With a small laugh she protested the idea. "Scott likes to handle all that himself. I practically have to put it through appropriations if I want money for something."

"So you broke up before because he hit you. When you got back together he helped isolate you from your family and friends, then convinced you to quit your career. He controls all the money so you have no resources to leave, and when he drinks he hits you. Do I have that all straight?"

Veronica had to give the woman credit for the summation, and didn't have to fake her sarcasm when she snarked, "Well, when you put it like that." She inserted a heavy sigh. "Look, we really do love each other. And he can be so sweet… It's just, when he drinks…"

"Tammy." Pauline's voice was firm. "One, and you'll learn this about me, I don't appreciate sarcasm. Two, if you had a friend in this situation, what would you tell her to do?"

Pauline stared her down for a long moment causing Veronica to look away and study the floor between her shoes. "Leave." Her voice was a whisper. She leaned forward and put her face in her hands, a sob escaping her. "I know you're right. It's what I came here for. It's just…hard. I love him."

When Pauline was silent Veronica turned her head to look at the woman, and found she was being studied. With a casualness that let her know she wouldn't be judged for her answer, Pauline asked, "What do you want to do, Tammy?"

She needed to have an excuse to keep coming to the shelter until she exhausted every chance to turn up information on the missing women, or found other evidence that explained their disappearances. Though it went against her grain, she had to play fearful and unsure so she could buy more time. "I don't know. I'm scared to leave and I'm scared to stay." Her words cracked on the last sentence.

Pauline gave a sad smile at that. "I understand. And we want to help you. Sometimes it benefits you to hear other women's stories, too. It can give you a better perspective on your own situation. Do you want to try that?"

Veronica pretended to think about it. "Would I have to talk?"

"Only when you're ready. Sometimes listening helps just as much. We meet every weekday between eight and eleven; you just drop whenever you can get away. Can you make that?"

After a glance at her watch, Veronica nodded. "I'll try. But I have to go. He'll be home in a couple of hours and I have to make dinner." She gave the older woman a small smile. "Thank you. It helps—that you didn't just yell at me to leave him."

Pauline's smile was small, and full of sadness. "I have lots of good information to share with you, and we're willing to help you if, or when, you make that choice. But it has to be your choice."

With a nod Veronica stood up to leave. After she promised she'd come as soon as she could, she quickly scurried out of the office and down the street toward the subway station. She and Jason had agreed that, beyond coming there today, she would travel back and forth on the subway so she wasn't spotted getting out of the van.

Reaching the office, she walked into Jason's desk area, collapsed into the extra chair and breathed a sigh of relief. Her ribs were too tender to comfortably take the crowded subway car and jostling ride, and it didn't help that the train had stalled for 15 minutes while in the tunnel.

Jason turned to her, abandoning the bag of Fritos he was munching on, raised his eyebrows and gave a low whistle. "That, damn. That was scary good. You almost sold me on it."

She grinned at him. "Thanks. Usually pretending to be someone else when I go digging on a case is the fun part. Not so much this time though."

"Yeah, well, I guess becoming a PI when you're nineteen gives you a lot of practice."

"You looked me up," Veronica accused, laughing. She'd done the same thing when she had gotten in that afternoon; impressed by the number and quality of cases he'd been involved in solving.

Jason laughed with her. "Yeah, but that I actually remembered from before. Your rep going into the Academy had us all quaking."

"Yeah, no anonymity when all your classmates are as nosy as you are." The Pizonica not-quite-sex tape had surfaced, but wasn't the worst thing the classmates had on each other. It seemed there was a different reveal each week, thanks to the internet.

"Can I ask you though…Tammy Turner?"

"Tammy Wynette and Tina Turner."

He nodded his understanding. "Because they were both abused."

She eyed him like he was the stupidest person on the planet. "No. Because today I was feeling a little bit country, and a little bit rock and roll." She stood up and grinned at him, then grabbed a handful of Fritos out of his bag before stiffly walking to her own desk.

* * *

While Veronica was at work, Logan met Charlie for a game of racquetball. He was pissed that she had agreed to this new assignment and kept trying to work out what the hell she meant when she said 'her injuries give her credence'. The aggression he took out on the small blue ball wasn't lost on Charlie, but fortunately his friend kept quiet and just played harder, until they were both heaving with the effort. It wasn't until they had showered and were at a nearby pub for lunch that Charlie broached the subject.

"So, are you going to tell me whose head you were picturing on that ball, or do I have to guess?"

Logan's lip twitched, and he decided he'd rather play the game than vent. Charlie would get him to talk, but there was no hurry. "Guess, but if you're wrong you're buying lunch."

"And if I'm right, you are. Let's see, you aren't working on anything with a studio right now so it's not that. You aren't editing a book, so it's not me. And only one other thing gets you this pissed off. Add in that hickey on your neck and its obvious Veronica is home. So, what did she do now?"

"Other than make me foot the bill for lunch," Logan said, "she came home looking like she'd been cast in the sequel to Million Dollar Baby."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I don't know what that means. You may want to throw in a few descriptors for someone who actually reads those cardboard rectangles full of paper, instead of staring at screens all the time."

The waitress brought their beers and Logan took a long sip of his, before putting it down and meeting Charlie's curious look. "She had a hard time on this last case. Came home beat to shit, with a broken wrist."

"Is she okay?"

"She will be; it's nothing that won't heal, but for the time being she's walking like a geriatric. Yet she's back at work today on a new assignment."

Rather than be surprised, Charlie took a long pull on his Guinness and shrugged. "Of course she is."

If Logan had been wearing a blood pressure cuff, he was sure it would have spiked at that comment. "Philosophical isn't one of my gears, McGeary. And if you read the bro handbook you'd know that if I'm pissed off, you have to be too."

"Yeah, if you're a loyal puppy like Dick, maybe," Charlie snarked, "but I'm not a puppy. I'm your friend, and hers, too. Plus, I'm the guy who sat next to her hospital bed when she was shot, and watched her go back to work right after, remember?"

Charlie and Veronica's former relationship was always going to be there but, usually, it served to enhance Logan and Charlie's friendship. It would be difficult to explain Veronica to most men, and Charlie's perspective usually helped. Right now it pissed him off. "So, I'm just supposed to, what? Roll with it? Go with the flow? Bend over and take it?"

In the middle of taking another long drink, Charlie started coughing, choking on the combination of beer and laughter. Once able to speak again, but still chuckling, he asked, "Have you ever actually done that?"

"Only with Veronica." They exchanged rueful smiles before Logan continued, "I promised her this damn job wouldn't come between us, but it's getting harder to keep that promise."

"When it becomes more difficult to suffer than to change…you will change."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm saying you've been working toward this for a while. If her job is coming between you, you owe it to both of you to be honest about it." Charlie paused his speech while the waitress delivered their food, then continued as if they hadn't been interrupted. "Logan, talk to her. Don't give her an ultimatum; but give her a chance. She may be willing to find a solution that will give you both what you need."

Logan understood why Charlie and Henry were a good fit. They both brought a calm manner and mature perspective to their relationship, and were generous about sharing that outlook with him. He and Veronica had their own ways of managing their issues and, while it worked for them, at times like this he appreciated his friends helping him avoid a fight before it happened.

"Thanks Charlie, I will, but not until this assignment is done. I don't want her thinking about anything else right now." Feeling calmer after talking and making a plan, Logan leaned back and cocked an eyebrow in Charlie's direction, a smirk settling over his face. "So, that quote earlier…Robert Anthony? You're reading self-help books now?"

"Only so I can save assholes like you thousands in therapy. Consider it my good deed for the decade," Charlie shot back, and they spent the remainder of lunch joking around and talking about the screenplay Logan was working on.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, does anybody want to see pictures of Logan and Veronica's house? Just let me know in a review and I'll answer you with instructions on how to look it up. Wait...did I just pimp for reviews? I think I did!**

**A/N Again, a shout out to nevertothethird, a more amazing beta than I could have hoped for. Logan's rant of cliches was all for you; glad you liked it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews and welcome to everyone who is new to following this story. Seeing that you are involved in this version of the Marsverse inspires me to keep going, and I have lots planned I can't wait to share! For all you who are Guest reviewing, I'm sorry I can't respond personally to each of your reviews, but please know your words are appreciated. Again, if anyone wants to see the house, just let me know and I'll tell you how to find it. **

**A/N: A huge thank you to nevertothethird!. Your beta prowess has saved me from myself so many times, you may be up for a humanitarian award-I know I voted for you. Though, I'm thinking we should have left Logan with three hands. The possibilities of that have kept me entertained through a couple hellish days at work...**

Chapter 5

Veronica and Jason developed a routine over the next few days; he monitored from the surveillance van while she participated in the group counseling session and spoke individually to the participants afterward. They hoped to uncover something to further their case. A few well-timed questions had revealed more names of women who had stopped coming to the shelter, but so far they had all been easily located. After a bit she volunteered her own, albeit fake, abuse story to the group since she knew it was the best way to be trusted.

A couple of times after the group session she spoke privately to Pauline, and once with Nikki, the second counselor. Nikki had a more aggressive approach, pushing Veronica to explain her reasons for staying with an abusive partner. Veronica was inspired by Logan when describing 'Scott's' sweet side, making it plausible that she was finding it difficult to decide to leave him. She needed more time and could only get it by dragging out her story.

When she wasn't undercover, Veronica and Jason investigated everyone who worked or volunteered at the shelter, as well as the clients of the shelter who had revealed their names. So far, neither of them had turned up anything but evidence of sorrow. Police reports, hospital records, and investigation summaries from Child Protective Services made for grim reading. It bothered her that many of these women had become so scared, so downtrodden that they not only accepted abuse as part of their lives, they expected it. Several confessed to being in successive abusive relationships, and to staying even when the abuse was shared with their children. She'd taken psychology classes and had always known of this reality—hell, Lynn Echolls had stood by while Aaron spent more than a decade abusing Logan. But textbooks didn't tell you how it felt to be betrayed by someone you loved, to watch them change into a person you hated and feared, to be helpless to stop their abuse or to leave them.

Every day she spent at the shelter, the more she appreciated Logan's protectiveness. He did everything possible to keep her from getting hurt, including shield her from his notoriety. He refused to have any mail delivered to the house and insisted they each have separate post office boxes, though she usually picked up the mail from both. He paid cash for almost everything so his name wouldn't draw attention, they made a point of not knowing their neighbors, and he purchased the house under a well-hidden dummy corporation. They stuck to a small group of friends, all of whom understood their desire to keep their relationship private. Even Dick had managed to keep it a secret all these years.

When Logan drew attention for the first screenplay he penned, he played the press beautifully. He gave enough interviews that the media didn't need to pursue him. Whenever they asked if there was a special woman in his life, he deflected the question with grace. Veronica never accompanied him to any film functions since photographers were a given at those events. She spent the weeks leading up to the Academy awards on assignment, then visiting her dad and other friends in case any tabloid journalists managed to discover where Logan lived. Fortunately, his wasn't a very big story; his parents were old news, so he was just a ten-minute human interest piece about 'the turnaround of the wastrel son of Aaron and Lynn Echolls', rather than the front page. After all, there's no story in happily ever after.

Though she appreciated that protectiveness in his public life, in their private life it had become annoying. Since being injured, Logan had helped her dress and shower, but with clinical detachment. He had hugged her, and held her, and given her chaste, affectionate kisses, but nothing amorous. He'd made one sexual wisecrack, about laying more than a finger on her, but had kept his comments 'G' rated ever since. And after that first day, he'd tiptoed around the subject of her job as if he was trying not to upset her. He'd been treating her more like an elderly grandmother than a lover.

Veronica knew their relationship wasn't a psychologist's definition of functional. When they had a problem, she and Logan would usually let the other know by yelling, stomping their feet and slamming doors. Though it appeared childish, a lot of truth came out in those moments; truth they would have filtered out or joked around if they had the time to think about their responses. The tantrums were cathartic, and were commonly followed by a rational conversation to deal with everything that had been uncovered.

While she wasn't ready to get into a heavy discussion about her job, she definitely missed the sex—all of it. Not just the 'gettin' down to bidness' part of it, but the sexual quips, the casual touches and flirting, the teasing, and the sext messages he sent her at random times. She missed the look he often gave her; the one that turned his eyes dark as they fixated on hers, that said he wanted her. He hadn't given her that look since she'd come home. In fact, he'd become adept at keeping a careful, polite distance between them and it was beginning to exasperate the hell out of her. It would be a little longer before she could make love, but that didn't mean she couldn't be touched, that she didn't need it, or need him.

A week into the investigation, she came home early in the afternoon and headed straight up to bed take a nap. Not only had the morning had been emotionally draining, she was also still healing. They were due for dinner at Charlie and Henry's in a few hours, and she desperately needed a sleep first. After getting Logan to promise to wake her up in time, she shucked her clothes and climbed into bed.

"Veronica," she heard, the voice pulling her out of a deep sleep. She was lying on her stomach, her head flat on the mattress since she had apparently pushed aside the pillows while she slept.

"Veronica, you told me not to let you sleep past six." This time she recognized Logan's voice, but couldn't figure out why he would wake her up. She groaned and pulled a pillow over her head to block him out.

The pillow wasn't effective. His voice still came through, albeit a bit muffled. "Veronica, come on. I could hear your stomach growling from my office." He started running his fingertips over her bare back, a move she couldn't ignore since it felt so damn good.

Her body now awake, she waited for her mind to catch up, then removed the pillow and glared at him. "If it didn't wake me up, that should have been a clue that I needed to sleep more than I needed to eat."

Logan grinned at her, not bothered in the least by her rancor. "And if I hadn't woken you up, you would yell at me for letting you starve. Get your gorgeous ass up, or Charlie is going to be mad at us for being late."

His words reminded her of her earlier frustration, and she figured the opportunity was ideal for getting them back on track. She slowly flipped over and sat up, being careful of her bruised ribs because they goddamn hurt, but determined to get him to really touch her again. The blankets pooled in her lap and, as expected, Logan's eyes raked up and down her naked torso.

Pretending she hadn't noticed, she moved her feet and planted them on the floor, then rose out of bed with her back to him. She gingerly bent so she could gather up the clothes she had left on the chair earlier, but also to flaunt the body part he had just verbally admired, before she turned around.

The expression of carnal hunger he wore was familiar; his pupils seemed to dilate slightly, and his mouth fell open as he took a deep breath. It was easy to hide the evil smile that broke out at what she'd done, since his eyes were still centered south of her face. She inched toward him, only to have him get up and move to stand by the bureau.

"So, I'll be in my office until you're ready," he informed her, pointedly looking her in the eyes.

Veronica smiled like she hadn't noticed his discomfort. "I'll just be a few." She turned and dropped her work clothes in the hamper before slowly heading to the closet to get dressed for the evening. Behind her she heard a low exclamation and a grin grew huge across her face.

* * *

"Fuck," Logan whispered to himself. Not for the first time, his head and heart were completely at war with his cock. He saw how stiffly she moved, and saw her injuries every time he looked at her. But it had been more than three weeks since they'd slept together and he was more than a little aroused. Years of living together had made them casual about their nudity, and that casualness had led to a lot of impromptu lovemaking, but this was the first time he wasn't able to take advantage of her nakedness. Feeling like an ass for the dirty thoughts that were crowding his brain, he vowed to be nothing but considerate until she'd had at least another week or two to heal.

He returned to his office to work until she was done dressing. It took less than twenty minutes for her to show up, ready for the evening, and put his vow to the test. Her hair was straight and shining, a cornsilk curtain around her face. The shadows had faded from her eyes, and even though her bruise still darkened her cheek and the scrape still lined her jaw, she was beautiful.

But what the hell was she wearing? The v-necked royal blue sweater was familiar, but the cleavage that graced it was, well, existent. She didn't often wear push-up bras, but it was obvious she'd put one on tonight. Her black skirt was about three inches short of decent and the black knee high boots she wore with it harkened back to their high school days. He'd thought the black colored cast she had chosen didn't suit her, but with this outfit it was sexy as hell.

She held a leather-clad foot out to him and gave a shy grin. "Heels were too jarring to walk on. It was these or tennis shoes."

"Good choice," he complimented, looking her up and down, knowing he was destined for a special kind of hell. "Veronica, you look…"_ perfect for bending over my desk,_ "…nice," he said, careful to amend his statement.

"Nice of you to look. But now that I'm awake, I'm starving. Let's go." She turned and headed out the door as he followed, doing his damnedest to keep his thoughts chaste as he studied the stretch of thigh between her boots and too short skirt.

* * *

When they got home from the evening, Logan accompanied her as far as the doorway to their bedroom, and then told her he was going to do a little more work. In the middle of taking off her boot, she yanked it the rest of the way off, lobbed it at the door and yelled, "Seriously?!"

He whirled around and faced her. "Veronica, what the hell—" he started to ask, his brow furrowed with irritation and confusion.

"All night, not one kiss that you wouldn't give a grandmother. Every time you started to touch me, you pulled away like you didn't mean to. Now you won't even get in the same bed with me?" At this point her feelings were hurt and it was entirely his fault. "Does this," she indicated her bruise and cast, "put you off that much?"

"Is _that_ what that getup was all about tonight? And the way you were touching me? That was all to make me crazy?"

Veronica felt like she wanted to scream in frustration. What the hell, why not. "Aaarggh! Yes! What did you think I was doing?" She grabbed onto the back of the chair, putting her foot on it so she could unzip and remove her other boot, then tossed it to the ground.

"I thought it was just habit, but if your goal was to get me hot, well done. Now what?" he challenged.

She rolled her eyes. "What about a little reciprocation? I'd prefer it over being treated like an invalid."

Logan gave her an appraising look, then changed it to a smirk. "Is that what you want?" He slowly approached her, and she suddenly felt like prey. A feeling she liked a little too much. "You want me to touch you, to make you crazy?" he clarified.

Veronica matched his lecherous smile and dared him, "Bring it on."

She stood rooted to the floor as he walked behind her, the anticipation spreading warmth through her belly. Logan curved his body around her back, then reached down to lightly stroke the tops of her thighs with his fingertips. His lips traced her jawline, his stubble delighting her, and then ended with a bite on her earlobe and the flick of his tongue in her ear. When she gasped, he let out a low chuckle that immediately sent a shiver down her spine. She winced a bit at the twinge of pain it caused in her ribs, but it wasn't enough to distract her from what he was doing.

"Do you think I haven't thought about it?" he asked, moving his hands slowly toward the inside of her thighs. "Helping you change, to shower. Every time I got close to you, to help you up." His mouth reversed direction, again heading down her jaw, running his tongue lightly up and down her neck while stopping to place a nip on the spots he knew were most sensitive. "I could feel you under my hands, and I've wanted you."

She turned her head and touched his lips with her own, the meeting of their tongues sending a surge of desire through her. Forgetting all else, she turned and reached her arms up to wrap around his neck and froze, gasping with the ache the movement caused.

Logan stepped back and opened his arms wide to release her, his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down in disapproval. "Damn it, Veronica, you're not ready. Why did you even start this?"

She turned around to face him, reaching her hands out. "Logan, it's okay. I just moved wrong—"

He grabbed her hands and pushed them down before letting them go. "Stop. I can't stand hurting you. Don't ask me to do this again," he said, barking it like an order.

She wasn't ready to give up. For just a minute, it had been exactly right between them. "I know we can't sleep together, yet. But couldn't we try—"

"Forget it. I'd rather toss one off," he snarked, walking past her and down the hall, leaving her alone in their room.

* * *

Veronica found him in his office a while later, his chair turned to look out the window and his feet on the sill as he sipped a glass of whiskey in the dark. The only light came from the hallway behind her, and the room was populated with shadows.

She had dressed demurely in a pair of oversize flannel pajamas, figuring it was the same as waving a white flag. Leaning in the doorway, she startled him by asking, "Finished abusing yourself already? What happened to that famous stamina?"

Logan jumped, then tipped his head back to see her. He grinned and waved her over, setting his whiskey glass on the desk behind him. She gently settled onto his lap and nestled her head between his chin and shoulder, relaxing into him. He picked up one of her hands and twined their fingers together, and began stroking the back hers with his thumb.

The darkness of the room, the sound of their breath, the muffled busyness of the city outside, and the rhythmic stroking of her hand all had a soporific effect on her. She settled herself more heavily upon him and closed her eyes, until she felt the press of his lips against her forehead.

"Sorry," she whispered.

He snorted, and in a low voice, said, "Don't apologize for wanting me. Just…can you get what it meant to touch you, and have you react like that? It goes against every promise I ever made myself."

She felt her stomach flip at his statement and tipped her head back to look at him. The light from the hallway cast him as a silhouette, so she couldn't read his expression, but it didn't matter. She just nodded to show she understood and, when she stayed quiet, he leaned his head down and kissed her, lightly, then slowly deepened the kiss, bringing it to a close after a long moment. It was a start. Once again she settled against his chest and closed her eyes, not even noticing when she fell asleep and he carried her to bed.

* * *

The next day was a long one. She did the usual group therapy session, and then spent another fruitless hour talking with a few of the individual participants. Meeting Jason back at the office, they drove to interview the husbands of the two women who used to attend the shelter and were still missing. Jason had been considerate and funny, and they worked well together, but it didn't make playing nice with abusing men any easier. It was after six when she finally got back to her desk, and the last thing she wanted was a quiet night to sit at home thinking.

She picked up the phone and called Logan, waiting while the phone rang four times before he picked it up. His greeting sounded rushed and distracted so she asked, "Is everything ok there?"

"I just got in from walking the boys. They've been doing their impersonation of the dog from 'Up' for the last half block."

"Squirrel!" she barked, and then said," I need to go out. Want to meet me at Swells, say around seven?"

"Can you make it a few minutes later? I need to shower and change, and then feed the dogs," he explained.

"No problem. I could use a drink, so I'll be at the bar. Considering how badly I need to get laid, though, I might be putting out enough pheromones to get hit on by every guy there. You might want to hurry before I go home with one," Veronica teased.

Logan's chuckled reverberated through phone. "Not unless you want to spend your night investigating a murder. I'll put in for our table when I get there."

* * *

Logan reached the restaurant at five minutes after seven. As always, the place was packed. It was a local favorite, and most weeknights found them with at least a twenty minute waiting list for a table. The place was two stories, well-lit with a vintage dark wood and brass bar in the back, and about twenty white-linen covered tables spread around the room. A set of stairs led to an additional story that held another thirty or so tables, and was often used to accommodate large parties. It was family owned rather than a chain, and the menu was constantly fluctuating according to what was in season. They refused to take reservations, preferring a walk-in neighborhood crowd that was willing to take their chances.

One of Logan's favorite things about the restaurant, besides the atmosphere and varied menu, was the convivial atmosphere; it always sounded like a loud cocktail party. That night, while waiting to put in for a table, he struck up a conversation with the man in front of him who owned a local bagel shop. They spent a fast five minutes talking about a new film they had both seen and parted in a friendly way when it was Logan's turn.

As the man moved he saw, working the hostess stand, was Melissa Wells. He couldn't believe his shoddy luck that the bitch had not only moved to New York, but ended up employed by his favorite restaurant. He hadn't seen her since the day he'd kicked her out of his L.A. apartment, more than five years ago…

"_Dude, I need to talk to you," Dick said, standing on his doorstep, bouncing from one foot to the other._

_Logan took in his agitation, and the large manila envelope clutched in his hand. Nothing good could make Dick that nervous. He stepped back, and Dick came through the apartment door, and then did his little dance next to the couch._

"_Do you want to sit down? Can I get you something to drink?" Logan offered._

"_What? No. Is Melissa here?" Dick asked, looking around as if scared she would appear at any moment._

_It was no secret Melissa and Dick didn't get along, but she had never made the guy nervous before. "Acting class. She'll be home in an hour. What's up?"_

_Despite having declined to sit just a moment before, Dick stepped over and plopped into the chair, waiting until Logan sat on the couch opposite him before he started talking. "Logan, I know I shouldn't have done it, but I just didn't trust her."_

_A nervous _and_ apologetic Dick was something that came around about as often as Haley's Comet. Logan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and fixed Dick with a stare. "What did you do, Dick?"_

"_I got Mac's number and asked her to hack Melissa's cell phone records. This is a record of every phone call and text message from the past year." Dick held out the manila envelope until Logan reached out and took it from his hand._

_The weight of the paper was increased by its significance. Dick would only be giving him the information if it meant he'd found something in it. He couldn't even be angry by the invasion of privacy Mac and Dick had perpetrated, at least, not until he knew more. "Don't make me go through it. Just tell me what it says."_

"_She's using you, man. She's nailing some other guy, and has been since the two of you got together. And if you read the texts with her friend, that skank Stacy, you can see that if you don't ask her to marry you by next month, she's gonna stop using birth control."_

"_Dick—"_

"_You don't have to read everything. Just look at the highlighted stuff."_

_Logan opened the envelope and flipped through the pages, quickly scanning the highlighted texts to confirm what Dick had told him. _

"_How did you know?" Logan had to ask. How could he have spent a year being fooled, when Dick had seen right through her?_

_Dick shrugged, and looked down at his feet, his mouth tight. "I didn't, exactly. She just reminded me of Madison. Bitch always had an angle." _

_So Melissa had come home to find all her crap shoved into suitcases and garbage bags being held by the doorman downstairs. She had stood looking at the pile, a security guard preventing her from going upstairs, when Logan came down with the last suitcase. _

"_You son of a bitch! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Melissa had yelled._

_He'd tossed her parting gift at her, the envelope tied with a dirty shoelace for a ribbon. "Just throwing out the trash."…_

Now Melissa was standing in front of him with a caustic smile. "Of all the gin joints, in all the world…"

Not one to back down from a challenge, Logan flaunted his smarmiest smile, stepped back and looked around in wide-eyed wonder. "Silly me. I thought Whores-R-Us was one block over."

In return, Melissa deadpanned, "Oh the wit, how I have missed thee."

He thought for a quick moment, ignoring her. If they stayed, he chanced Veronica seeing Melissa and figuring out who she was. Given that, in Melissa's position, she only managed the list for tables and didn't do the seating, he figured that was a small risk. Plus, there was no way he was separating Veronica from a meal without a damn good excuse, and he just couldn't come up with one at the moment. So instead he answered tersely, "Well then, let's cut this reunion short. Table for 2, upstairs." Another reason he liked to come to Swells was because they didn't need your name for a table. Echolls was still distinctive enough to turn a few heads, so he definitely preferred their pager system.

She wordlessly wrote it down, then handed him his table pager as she moved onto the person behind him. He couldn't care less about Melissa, but he didn't want Veronica focused on anything but getting better and finishing her assignment. Her protective instincts, finely honed sense of revenge, and creative streak could lead to something particularly nasty, and that bitch just wasn't worth it. But Melissa's presence in his city still put him in a rotten humor.

His pissy mood was exacerbated by finding all the barstools surrounding Veronica filled. The place was too packed to save a seat for more than a minute, and the crowd was always shifting so he knew a place would free up soon, but he was still irritated.

With effort, Logan worked his way through the throng and ended up behind Veronica just as some blonde football player looking douche claimed a newly empty barstool next to her. Before he could let Veronica know he was behind her, the football player leaned over and offered, "Hey lady, can I buy you a drink?"

Leave a gorgeous blonde alone at a New York bar for ten minutes and it was inevitable some bastard would hit on her, but tonight Logan wasn't in the mood to play nice. Especially to some prick who picked up on a woman that looked like the newest inductee into Fight Club.

Placing himself between the two of them, Logan leaned on the bar, looked at the guy and answered for her, "She's not interested."

The football player raised an eyebrow and challenged, "If that's true, it probably applies to you."

Logan straightened up, prepared for a fight if the asshole wished to start one. He had three inches on the blonde tool, and he wasn't in the mood to back down. Backing up to give himself a little more room, Logan placed himself in front of the guy. "Considering she's my wife, I'll take her interest on faith. Now fuck off."

Veronica had turned completely around on her seat and was staring at Logan. Her head tilted and eyebrow cocked, she narrowed her eyes and asked, "Why do I feel like you just pissed a circle around me?"

"Consider it your wedding ring." They glared at each other for a long moment until she broke the stare to look behind him.

"Jason, wait!" she called to the Brett Favre doppelganger as he was slinking away.

Logan turned and stood frozen as the guy made his way back to them, and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. They had a very small circle of friends and this prick was definitely not in it.

"Logan, play nice. This is Jason Dragan. We're working this new case together. He's new to the city and stopped by to join us for a drink." Veronica's eyes narrowed slightly, warning him that 'play nice' was more of an order than an admonishment.

Either he was imagining things, or the guy gave Veronica a stare that lasted just a moment too long before he turned to Logan and offered a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you. Sorry for the misunderstanding."

Logan shook the meat hook offered him and warily returned the apology. "Are you joining us for dinner?"

"He already has dinner plans," Veronica offered, if maybe a little too quickly.

"Well then, we shall drink down all unkindness," Logan quoted and turned to get the bartender's attention so they could place their order. He felt like he was missing something and figured it was better to play nice until he figured out what was going on.

"So, Jason. Veronica said you were new to the city?" Logan asked when the bartender had walked away. In the confusion over meeting Jason they had lost the second barstool, so they both stood in front of Veronica, who had wisely kept claim to her seat.

Jason cleared his throat, and then answered, "Yeah. I was working in Austin and just got transferred here."

"Jason and I were in the same class at Quantico," Veronica explained.

While Logan took in this bit of news, the bartender brought their drinks and Jason said, "Veronica didn't say how long you two have been married."

"Just over a year," Logan answered absently. He had a few questions about Jason and was trying to figure out which ones to ask him, and which ones should wait until he and Veronica were alone.

"Uh-oh. Was I supposed to be calling you Special Agent…" Jason's brow furrowed as he turned to Logan, his tone no longer teasing. "Sorry, I just realized I don't know your last name."

Logan looked at Veronica for just a second, long enough to get the nod from her. She knew this guy from their time together at the academy, and was working with him now. It was her call if she could trust him. And it was her career on the line if the truth became public because of it. "Echolls," Logan answered, and noticed when Jason's eyebrows lifted, his eyes darted back and forth between the two of them and he opened his mouth to say something, and then quickly closed it. Obviously the guy recognized the name.

"But I still go by Mars. The less people that know, the better, okay?" Logan didn't miss the warning tone in her voice, and hoped the guy was smart enough to pick up on it.

"Enough about us. What was Austin was like?" Veronica asked, redirecting the conversation. "I've never been to Texas." The next few minutes were spent listening to Jason describe the town he had just left, then answer Veronica's questions about the other two FBI offices he had worked at. Logan became interested again when Jason looked at his watch and placed his empty glass on the bar.

"I better go. Thanks for the drink. It was nice to meet you, Logan." The meat hook grasped his hand again before giving Veronica a small wave.

As Jason walked away, their table pager went off so he waited until they were seated to ask the question that had been burning in him since the introduction. "So, you've been working with this guy for a week. What about Adam?"

Veronica shrugged and continued scanning the menu, not looking at him. "Adam got recruited for another assignment."

It wasn't the first time Adam and Veronica had worked separate cases, and there was so much she couldn't tell him about ongoing investigations that they rarely talked in detail about her workday. But her working while hurt, and without Adam, rankled. "Veronica." He didn't want to draw attention to them in the middle of a crowded restaurant, so worked hard to keep his voice calm.

She must have heard the anger in his tone, because she immediately looked up and reached her hand across the table to place over his. "Director David didn't want to throw Jason into anything big until he'd worked with someone from our office first, and this was an easy assignment for breaking him in."

Her words were reassuring, but he still had to ask "And you're not doing anything dangerous, right?"

Her smile was slow and small, but it reached her eyes, and therefore calmed him. She turned her hand to grasp his, then squeezed. "Yes, like I said, just recon stuff right now. But stop asking. You know I can't tell you anything. And you hate knowing when things are getting risky on an assignment.

With a nod, Logan released her hand and picked up his own menu. The problem was, that worked because he trusted Adam and a few others, like Jerry or Marjorie, to be her backup. But who the fuck was Jason?

* * *

**P.S. A shout out to to the reader (I don't know if you want your name public) who suggested John Mayer's Badge and Gun as great theme song to this story. The line that most reminded me of Veronica, "This house is safe and warm, but I was made to chase the storm", has been running through my head for days, and I love it.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N I usually start by thanking reviewers, but this time my first note of appreciate has to go to Nevertothethird who not only beta'd this story twice, but challenged me to dig deeper into these characters than I ever have. If you knew the chapter you would have gotten without her, you would know we all owe her a hot chocolate-and a bottle of peppermint schnapps to fortify her while she holds my hand through the rest of this.**

**As always, thank you for all the reviews this week. This chapter actually took me on an emotional ride it may take days , or a really good glass of wine, to recover from. Every time one of you let me know you were enjoying the story, it was like a cattleprod to keep me going and I really appreciate it. Please keep them coming! We've got a ways to go with this tale and your encouragement is more helpful than you know. **

Chapter 6

Jason was waiting at Veronica's desk, sitting in her chair, when she got in the next morning. He hopped up, then stood by while she sat down, pointedly ignoring him as she put away her things. Showing a smidge of intelligence by staying quiet, he waited while her anger outpaced her stubbornness and she turned to him. "Stalk much?"

He scratched the back of his neck, looked down at her, and gave an abashed smile. "Yeah, sorry about that. I overheard you on the phone last night. But I had no idea—"

"On the phone?" Veronica thought quickly, and then blanched. "You mean when I said I needed to get laid? God! Jason, I was joking around. With _my husband_."

He snorted, and she felt a little of her anger dissolve when she saw a blush color his light skin. He sank into Adam's chair across from her and leaned forward, putting his head in his hands and shaking it for a moment before looking at her. "I thought you were talking to a girlfriend and I figured, what the hell? I had no idea you were married."

Veronica studied him for a moment. He had inadvertently stumbled across her biggest secret, and now she had to deal with it. "Jason, Adam and Director David are the only people here that know about my relationship with Logan. I'd like to keep it that way."

"I get it Veronica. I won't say anything."

For some reason, Veronica believed him. She knew she was instilling a faith in him he hadn't earned yet, but he already had the goods on her, so there wasn't a lot to lose. Neither she nor Logan was under any illusion that they could stay hidden forever; however, they wanted it to be their choice when they went public. So she gave a small smile and simply said, "Thanks."

His right hand raised in the air as if he were giving testimony. "And I promise, no more stalking." It was obvious he was trying to joke around with her, but the blush that crept back into his cheeks showed he was still embarrassed.

His remark had given her as good of an opening as she was likely to get. "Jason, if I gave you any indication that I was interested—"

"No," he insisted, "You didn't. Like I said, I just figured what the hell. We had a good time before." The chair creaked as he leaned back and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "God, I'm such an ass."

He seemed so sincere she couldn't hold back a grin. "True that," she teased. "What do you say we pretend last night was just friends meeting for drinks, and move on? At least you're one less person I have to hide Logan from."

"You're a class act, Mrs. Echolls," he answered, grinning, causing her to roll her eyes and go back to ignoring him again.

A little later, in their meeting with Director David, they outlined their unfortunate lack of progress on the case. He sighed and tipped back in his chair, rubbing his bald head with one hand. "OK, the shelter was just a probability, a hunch. I think we need to allow for the possibility that there's nothing there. I'll give you one more week. Start pushing; make like you're ready to leave him but say that you want to really disappear. I want it to be easy for someone to approach you. In the meantime, keep searching to see if Susan Jameson showed up anywhere else before India."

* * *

That morning at group, when it was Veronica's turn to talk, she decided to use Nikki's pushiness to her advantage. She had spent hours watching the counselor lead women to admitting some harsh truths and it wouldn't be hard to manipulate the script she wanted read. She gave herself a moment to get worked up, then quietly cried and explained, "It was a bad night. He wasn't drinking, so he didn't hurt me, but he said… He called me a whore. I told him I wanted to go back to work and he said I just wanted an excuse to sleep around."

"Why does he think that?" Nikki asked.

Veronica shook her head. "It's one of the reasons he wanted me to quit before. He was convinced my boss wanted to sleep with me. He made me feel like I was cheating every day I worked."

"So, why do you want to get a job now?" Nikki pushed.

After a long moment, Veronica whispered, looking at her hands in her lap, "Because I want to leave him. It's just…it's getting worse. The things he says…" As her voice trailed off she used a tissue to wipe at the tears on her face.

Pauline leaned toward Veronica and asked, "Tammy, do you think it's going to get any better?"

She shook her head, still looking at her hands in her lap. "Not anymore. I used to, but now… No."

"You said you want to leave. How do you see that playing out?" Nikki prodded.

_Time to sell it, Mars. _"Ideally? I wish I could just disappear. I don't know how else… he said he'd kill me if I ever tried to go. My dad won't answer my calls and my friends…well, I dropped them so I can't blame them for not wanting to help."

Nikki offered, "Do you want to come here, stay here at the shelter?"

None of the missing women had actually stayed at the shelter, so Veronica forced her eyes wide, simulating panic. "No! Shelters are the first place he would look, and he wouldn't stop until her found me."

While Pauline reached over to rub her back, Nikki crossed her arms and cocked her head, giving Veronica a stoic expression. "We can help hide you, Tammy. He's not all-powerful, and you need to stop thinking like he is. He doesn't deserve that much credit."

Since arguing with Nikki wasn't going to do anything to further her case, Veronica just nodded and offered, "I'll think about it, but I'm going to try and come up with another way first."

When they moved onto the next woman, Veronica let herself relax. This was one of the more difficult charades she'd had to carry out, and she could only hope that she'd planted the seed that would lead to…well, something. Preferably soon.

* * *

Once she reached the office late that afternoon, she took her cell phone out of her bag and checked the messages. Two, both from Logan, just asking her to give him a call.

She tried the house phone first, hearing it ring only twice before he picked up. Behind his greeting she could hear music playing, dogs barking, and the high pitched screech of a young child. "Logan, what's going on over there?"

He gave a low laugh. "Trifecta of Trouble. Umm…I was kinda having a writer's block moment so called Henry since I knew she was working from home today—"

"You didn't!" Veronica interrupted, laughing. "Oh god, is this the eighth or ninth time you guys have tried to figure out that recipe? I'm starting to think these cooking marathons are just ploy to get out of doing your real jobs."

"Hey, you were the one to christen the last batch 'Soupgasm'. Keep criticizing and you won't be getting any tonight."

The double entendre made her laugh and she cradled the phone closer to her ear. "If we end up with as many leftovers as last time, I'll be getting it every night this week."

"Actually, we have a little help in that arena. Dick called this morning, and now he and Laura are here. They're staying a few days."

Veronica sighed. At least she had some warning of what she was coming home to. "But, you said trifecta. What's the third thing?"

"Trent's nanny got sick and he needed a baby sitter, so now Jack is here too. We've set up a kind of kid bakery area. At the rate it's going, we should have about five hundred over-decorated sugar cookies covered in spit."

"Yum. I know what Dick is eating for the next couple of days. I should be home in an hour. Do you need anything?"

His hesitation had Veronica curious. Then he admitted, "OK, Henry and I got carried away and it's worse than last time. We need people. Preferably hungry people."

"You know everyone I know. Who's already coming?" she asked.

"Jerry and Judith are out of town, so they're unavailable. Adam, Trent and Charlie are coming."

She thought for a second. "No one else comes to mind, except maybe Adam's sister—"

"Tried her, she has to work," Logan answered. Dick's braying laughter almost drowned out his answer, making her consider going to a movie and skipping the evening all together. Just then Jason walked into her office, concentrating on a file as he walked over and sunk down into Adam's chair.

Logan's voice continued in her ear. "Can you bring anybody? What about that guy that came out with us last night?"

_Uh, no._ She hedged, "Jason has plans tonight—"

Jason looked up distractedly from the file when she said his name. "What? No I don't," he said, loud enough for Logan to hear, then winced when he realized she was on the phone.

A crash and Henry's voice yelling "Logan!" could be heard in the background.

"Gotta go. See you both later. Love you." Logan hung up before she had a chance to respond.

Adam was right. Not telling Logan about Jason from the beginning had been a bad idea. She had thought she could get away with the tiny sin of omission long enough to get through one case. Now, due to Jason's asinine move the night before, Logan thought he was someone she wanted them to hang out with. There was no way she was doing this over the phone, or when they were expecting a houseful of people, but once they were alone she would have to tell him the truth. She gave an internal sigh, knowing she deserved to spend the evening stressing about the one man firing squad she faced when everyone went home. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

She turned to Jason and plastered a huge, fake smile on her face. "Guess who's coming to dinner?"

* * *

Veronica unlocked the door that opened into the kitchen, leading Jason into what she was sure would be a disaster. She wasn't disappointed. The breakfast bar looked like the Keebler elves had set up shop. Five different colors of frosting, at least twelve varieties of sprinkles, and what looked to be a liter of colored sugar created a raised relief map of an alien planet. All six burners of the stove were covered with a frying pan or stewpot of some kind, and every other available surface was littered with the leavings of various vegetable ends and meat trimmings. The sink overflowed with additional pots, the contents of which were cementing as she watched.

She couldn't help but laugh at the chaos. Since Logan would get the honor of cleaning it up, she could see the humor in it. When they heard a childish peal of laughter, followed by a bark and a very adult curse from upstairs, Veronica turned to cock an eyebrow at Jason. "Enjoy this moment of calm. It's the last one you'll get tonight."

"Have you been hiding a couple of kids too?"

"Yeah, the homely and hairy kind."

When they walked up into the living room, she saw they were the last to arrive. Before she could greet the adults, Laura, Dick's three-year-old daughter, and Jack, came bounding at her with the dogs right behind them. She exchanged hugs and greetings with the children, pet and scratched Hat and Mc, then backed off and laughed as they all ran past her and down the stairs. The dogs were still young, and whenever Jack or Laura were over, they acted like energetic puppies again.

Logan kissed her hello, then shook Jason's hand and introduced him around while Veronica greeted everyone. Armed with drink orders, Logan asked for her help as he headed for the stairs. She followed, leaving Jason to get acquainted with their friends on his own. Hopefully would get monopolized by Dick for the next few minutes; some punishment was deserved for not noticing she was on the phone earlier.

Alone in the kitchen, Logan surprised her when he backed her against the refrigerator before she could open it. His eyes were dark and he wore a familiar smirk as he looked down at her. Recognizing the expression, she lifted an eyebrow, then grinned as he put his hand under her chin to tilt up her face and ordered, "Don't you dare move." He grasped her hands in his and pulled down slightly, restricting her from lifting her arms. She was wholly amused by the time he finally lowered his head and placed his lips against hers. She held back from laughing though, and accepted the slow, sweet kiss he gave her. After a bit he used his mouth to open hers, and deepened the kiss until she no longer saw any humor in it.

When he finally brought the things to a close, she couldn't hold back a smile. "What was that for?"

He kissed her hand before releasing it, then stepped away toward the liquor cabinet and started pulling down bottles as he shrugged. "The fundamental things apply."

She nodded and started humming the ditty as she grabbed the requested beers. Since their fight the other night he'd made a couple of similar overtures, letting her know he had heard everything she'd said. And, in deference to his request, she hadn't pushed him for more. Compromise, resolution, set, and match.

"So, how many variations of Zuppa de Perfezione do we have tonight?" she asked, turning her thoughts toward dinner.

"Four. A control batch and three slightly different variations. They're all good, but I think Henry and I nailed the right recipe this time. You and Charlie will have to be the final judges though."

"And Dick and Laura? How does somebody who lives in the Bay Area just drop in on someone in New York?" Veronica queried, waiting to hear some variation of Dick logic.

Logan gathered up the drinks he'd made and headed toward the stairs. "He claims he 'like, totally called and shit'." His nonchalant shrug showed he wasn't bothered by the impromptu visit. "I told him when I moved out of the Neptune Grand he had an open invitation to my place. Ten years later he's still taking me up on it."

Veronica just didn't get their casualness. Maybe growing up in huge houses with maid service never made you feel unprepared for guests, but she still wasn't used to Dick just dropping in, then staying for several days. "Oh well, as long as he brings Laura. God that kid is cute."

Laura was petite and had brown hair with a slight curl, light blue eyes, a dimpled, impish grin, and features that were well defined for a child of three. In short, she was a tiny doppelganger of her mother, Mac. Her beauty was already apparent, and Veronica expected it to become more prevalent as she grew. Despite how good of a father he had turned out to be, it put Veronica's faith in karma that Dick would someday be the dad of a gorgeous teenage daughter, and she was glad she would have a front row seat.

Veronica was used to it now, but when Mac had first admitted that not only was she pregnant, but Dick was the father, she had been shocked. The chain of events that led to Laura had started with a phone call when Dick had contacted Mac, and asked her do a favor on behalf of Logan. One phone call had turned into many, which turned into a brief visit, which resulted in a pregnancy that became the reason Dick finally turned into a man. Well, a kinda-man who also happened to be a good dad. Veronica had expected him to flake, or throw money at Mac so he would be justified in ignoring his child, but he had surprised her. Though he and Mac were never a couple, he did his damndest to make sure he was there for his kid; he moved his entire business operation to the Bay Area so he could live only a couple miles away from Mac and Laura, which meant she and Logan didn't have to visit him in L.A. anymore, thankfully.

* * *

They parceled out the drinks when they came upstairs; Logan saved Jason's neat scotch for last. The guy was standing alone, looking at a cluster of pictures on the wall. The largest was a picture from what was obviously his and Veronica's wedding day; she was in a strapless white gown, clutching a bouquet of flowers, and wrapping her arms around Logan's neck as he bent down so they could share a kiss that admittedly, would have been more appropriate in a private setting. To the right of that was a family picture, with Keith sitting in a red restaurant booth, laughing while flanked by Veronica and Logan, both of them with their heads tilted to rest on his shoulder. To the left was a candid picture of Veronica, Wallace, Weevil, Mac, Logan and Dick all laughing while playing poker. But the one Jason was focusing on was the smaller picture under this group, one of the few Logan himself had taken, of Veronica over ten years ago. She was wearing a gray striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her shoulders, her hair was long and wavy with one side braided back, and she was grasping what looked to be the bars of a jail cell. "Trip to Alcatraz?" Jason asked.

Logan smirked as he answered, "No, she was being held for helping an accused murderer escape jail. I had to stop by to pick something up from her, and couldn't resist the photo op."

Veronica, who has hovering nearby, overheard and interjected, "Ah, yes, the great cookie incident of 2007. But just call me Pam because, like everything else Sheriff Lamb accused me of, it didn't stick."

Logan winced at her lame joke, but Jason gave her a surprised look. "V, I had no idea you had such a sordid past. I may have to look a little deeper into your file."

"Tolstoy would make quicker reading," Logan quipped, and smirked when Veronica lightly slapped him on the arm.

"Really?" Jason grinned at Veronica. "How in the hell did you ever get in the FBI?"

"They decided they'd rather have me on their side," Veronica said. "Logan, are you planning on feeding us anytime soon? Feeling a little lightheaded here."

He rolled his eyes. "I told you we should have bought that fainting couch. Yes, everything is ready; we were just waiting on you, Snookums." The saccharine saturated his voice when he spoke the nickname.

Since the children had already been fed, it was adults only that trooped down to the dining room. The table was set with everything needed for the feast, except the main course. Leaving them all to get settled, Henry and Logan made a couple of trips to the kitchen and brought back the four experimental vats, enough to feed a party three times their size.

A little more than a year ago Veronica, Logan, Charlie and Henry had taken a fall road trip to Vermont and stopped at an Italian restaurant along the way. The sausage and tortellini soup they ate was unanimously voted perfect by all of them, but the owner refused to share the recipe. Logan and Henry had been trying to duplicate it ever since, and their somewhat monthly soup parties had become a tradition.

As protocol required, only Logan and Henry knew which pot they thought should be the winner. Everyone else stayed quiet and waited while Veronica and Charlie tasted the four batches.

When the third pot was sampled, Logan watched as their eyes met, huge grins spread across their faces and Charlie yelled "That's it!" Veronica gave Henry a high five, then turned to Logan and stood on her tiptoes. He bent down so she could easily plant a victory kiss on him, despite their height differences.

While they all settled down to eat Adam asked, "So, do we get you both a plaque with the recipe engraved on it? What is the protocol here?"

Logan laughed, "No fucking way. You get this recipe from us when you pry it from our cold dead fingers." He leaned across the table and clinked his glass with the one Henry was holding out in agreement.

Dick threw down his spoon, sending a splatter of dark broth across the white tablecloth. "No way dude. This is awesome. Not sharing the recipe is like when the strippers leave me hard. I want to take this home and nail it myself."

Charlie looked toward the den and admonished, "You do realize you have a child running around here, don't you?"

"You sound like Mac's boyfriend," Dick said, irritated by the reprimand. "The douchebag is always telling me to clean it up in front of the kid. Laura's a Casablancas, she'll roll with it."

"Because there is nothing cuter than a three-year-old talking about strippers and douchebags," Veronica remarked, sarcastically. Logan smiled to himself. Dick had worked his way into a quasi-friendship with her, but that didn't mean she gave his behavior much leeway.

"Actually, it kinda is," Dick grinned. "The kid picks up on anything you say. The preschool called us in the other day because another parent recognized that Laura was cursing in German. Totally learned it listening to Mac's next-door-neighbor yell at his dog."

Everyone else laughed, but Trent just stared at Dick before getting up and heading into the den with a remark about checking on Jack.

Henry turned to Veronica and asked, "Can you tell us anything about the case you're working on now? We didn't get a chance to talk about it the other night."

Logan saw the quiet look exchanged between Veronica and Jason before she answered. "We can't say much. Just that we are following a lead that doesn't look like it's going to pan out. A few more days, a week, and we may have to give it up."

Uncharacteristically serious, Adam leaned forward and asked her, "What does your gut tell you?"

Veronica's brow furrowed and she was quiet for a minute, before answering. "That there's something there, but it's a situation where I have to build trust. I just don't know if we have enough time."

Logan reached over and ran a hand over her back in consolation. He knew how much she hated an unsolved case.

"But she's doing a hell of a job," Jason chimed in. "I'm only listening to the wire tap, so it's hard to read how other people are taking it, but she really has a knack for this undercover stuff."

As he processed that statement, Logan felt that ever-present knot of anxiety twist in his stomach_. _He leaned across the table toward Jason. His voice was low and measured, almost threatening, as he asked, "What does that mean? That you're just out in some goddamn van listening? You're not actually in there with her?"

He felt Veronica's hand on his arm and heard her voice as she soothed, "Logan, stop. It's a safe place, and Jason's presence wouldn't be appropriate. We're just trying to draw out information; there's nothing to worry about."

Everything in Logan wanted to pull the blonde Neanderthal aside and make it clear his job was to be by Veronica's side, protecting her, but he couldn't stop his logical mind from adding up the tidbits she had fed him tonight with the ones she had dropped over the past week. When he looked at her and saw the reassuring smile she gave him, he realized his behavior was overdone. Taking a deep breath, he threw Jason a tight smile as he leaned back. "Sorry. I've just been on edge since she got hurt."

Jason warily accepted his apology, then glanced around the table at everyone else. If he was looking for a reaction to Logan's show of temper, he was out of luck; their friends were too used to it. Adam, of course, thought it was funny whenever he had a moment of bad humor and had no qualms about poking fun at him for it. Under the chatter that followed, predictably, Adam could be heard muttering what he had dubbed 'Logan's theme song'. Dick quickly picked up by Dick, then, of course, everyone else. By now they all knew the words.

Its just one of those days  
Feelin' like a freight train  
First one to complain  
Leaves with a blood stain  
Damn right I'm a maniac  
You better watch your back

Chastened, even Logan had to laugh. Nobody could keep a straight face when this group tried to rap. _Fucking, Adam. _But they were right, he had overreacted. From everything Veronica had said, there was no reason to worry about this assignment, at least, not yet.

* * *

After everyone had left, he came downstairs to the living room to find Veronica sitting on the couch, clutching a half-full glass of water against her stomach. He sat down next to her, took the glass she offered to share, and drained it before putting it on the side table.

"Did you find Dick?" she asked.

"Yeah. I had to take his shoes off and turn off the lights. He fell asleep while reading a story to Laura."

She laughed and turned so her knees rested in his lap, and lay her cheek against the back of the couch. "So much for 'partying Dick hard', huh?"

He grimaced. "That's one phrase I'll be fine with never hearing again." He turned his head, also resting his cheek against the couch, his face only inches from hers. "This was my kind of party; everyone is gone by ten and I get to end the night with just you."

She didn't give him the smile he'd expected; instead, her brows met in the middle and she placed her hand against his so their knuckles met, then turned her eyes down to watch their fingers open so they could twine together. "Logan, I have to tell you something."

"Okay," he said, drawing out the word. He felt a little slow after the long day and a couple glasses of wine, and was enjoying sharing the quiet moment with her, even if she was in a serious mood.

She shrugged and reluctantly met his eyes for a brief second before returning to the study of their hands. "It's not a big deal; I just thought it was fair to tell you. It's about Jason. I knew him before, when we were at Quantico."

"Yeah…you said that last night."

Her eyes lifted to meet his and she took a deep breath before stumbling over her words. "No, I mean, I…we. We got together, outside of class."

"Got together…"

"Yeah."

It wasn't normal for her to hedge when telling him something, and he noticed the hand that wasn't holding his was in her lap, clenched tightly in a sign of nervousness. She seemed reluctant to get to the point and it was making him feel a little off center as he started to form an idea as to why. "Veronica, what are driving at?"

"Just that Jason and I-," she broke their gaze and returned to her earlier study of their conjoined hands, "we got to know each other as more than just classmates."

He felt the jealous flare ignite and sobered up as the meaning of her words, and her hedging at telling him, got through. "You mean, you slept with him."

"Oh sure, you don't have a problem saying the words," she said, but the quaver in her voice gave evidence that she knew her joke would fall flat.

He no longer felt relaxed, and stood up to put a little distance between them. "So, it took you more than a week to tell me you're working with an ex-boyfriend?"

"No, Logan, he wasn't my boyfriend. It wasn't like that—"

"So…what was it, just some one night stand?" He couldn't seem to stop himself from digging for details he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

She had moved to perch on the edge of the couch, all sign of her earlier relaxation gone. At his question she fidgeted and looked down at her shoes. "No, not a one night stand. It was more of a…arrangement."

That one word created a clearer picture than he'd wanted; he should have stopped digging. She was no angel, he knew better than anyone. Though he never would have imagined that casual sex was her style, he could live with it; her _arrangement_ with Jason was years ago and, given his own sexual history, he was in no position to judge her. But there was more to her confession that just admitting to a past indiscretion, at least to him. "I get it, Veronica. But it still doesn't explain why you didn't tell me. You've basically been lying to me for a week."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just figured it was for this one case and then I'd be back working with Adam."

The more this news sat with him, the worse it was. He took a deep breath to try and clear all the questions starting to back up in his mind and asked, "So, why tell me now?"

She let out a small laugh and shrugged. "Because I didn't intend for him to become part of our social life? But I can't keep sitting in rooms with the two of you when you don't know. It's not fair."

_Fair is when people like Melissa and Jason stay in the past. _He felt a twinge of guilt thinking of how he had squelched the information about running into Melissa the night before. But it wasn't the same. Melissa wasn't at his job or in their home; he hadn't invited her into their lives. "Then why did you ask him to join us at Swells last night?"

She fixed him with a look, and set her jaw tight as she admitted, "I didn't. He overheard us on the phone and thought I was meeting up with a girlfriend. He just showed up."

_The phone call when she said…the guy tried to buy her a drink…pushed it when I told him Veronica wasn't interested. _ He unconsciously started walking back and forth in front of her, trying to release some of the extra energy this line of thought had created. "He showed up to get laid, Veronica."

Her silence was agreement enough, and the rest of their encounter at the bar ran through his head. How Veronica had made sure Jason didn't stay for dinner, but acted like she had invited him there. That Jason played it off like he knew she had a husband, but not his full name. _Goddammit. _He halted his pacing to stand in front of her."And you fucking conned me so I wouldn't realize it. The two of you _worked together_ to do that."

Her attempt to explain herself was pathetic. "He did show up out of the blue, but I didn't want to cause a scene by telling you in front of him last night. Logan, once he met you he totally got it. It's not causing any weirdness between us at work, please let it go."

"What exactly am I supposed to let go, Veronica?" He moved closer, so they were only inches apart, and faced off with her when she stood to meet him. His voice rose but, conscious of Dick and Laura sleeping just a floor above, he worked to keep it close to a speaking level. "That you lied to me for a week? That you and your boy toy played me? That you should have told me when we got home last night, at the very least, and didn't? That you're working with him every day? I'm having a hard time letting _any _of that go."

Her look of irritation and defensive posture when she crossed her arms and widened her stance wasn't lost on him. "Don't get overdramatic, Logan. He's not my boy toy and it wasn't a big conspiracy, just a white lie to smooth over an awkward moment. And I didn't tell you because I knew you would make it a bigger deal than it is."

"How is this not a big deal?" Her betrayal was causing an invisible weight to press down on his chest and it took effort to talk past it, causing him to yell. It didn't matter; at this point he didn't care who he woke up. "How much do I have to put up with because of your job? It's not enough that I'm worried sick every time you leave the house? Or that I have to spend days or weeks missing you so you can go out on assignment?

Her irritated look changed to one of concern. She started to reach a hand toward him, but he backed up, in no mood to be touched right now. He'd been sitting on this for too long and it was a relief to finally say it to her. "And the goddam silences. The ones full of everything you can't tell me. But I've tolerated the secrets you have to keep because, at the very least, I trusted you not to lie to me. If you don't see the difference, what the hell are we doing here?"

He had watched the tears start to well up in her eyes as she listened to him, and he turned toward the stairs so he wouldn't have to see them fall. He felt too justified in his anger to let her crying have its usual effect on him.

"Logan—"she called after him.

"What?" he snapped, his back still to her as his foot hovered over the first step.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know…"

He turned to look at her as her voice trailed off. The tears were pouring freely now, but she ignored them in favor of hugging herself tighter, like she needed the pressure of her arms to hold herself together. It took everything in him to not go to her, to hold her and soothe until they convinced themselves they were okay, but he couldn't. Not when she'd just used her apology to put another lie between them.

He could feel his jaw tighten as he fought back his own tears and looked away from her, shaking his head in denial of her statement. He let out a chuff of bitter laughter as a precursor to his words before he went down the stairs, leaving her as alone as he felt. "You knew, Veronica. But you got what you wanted so you didn't care."


	7. Chapter 7

**Biggest, most important A/N EVER: **Ok, I know I've said my beta, nevertothethird, is the best in the 'verse, but I REALLY MEAN IT. Folks, not only did she go over the behemouth of a chapter twice, keeping me true to character, making me bare my soul, and get me to laugh while doing it, she gave me the best gift I've ever received in my life!

I consider the house in this story to be as much a secondary character as Charlie, Henry or Trent. So, while vacationing in NY, she not only visited the house, but printed out my favorite picture of Logan and Veronica and took it with her. So, hanging over my desk, is a picture of Logan and Veronica in front of "their" house! Excuse me while I SSSSSQQQQQUUUUUUUEEEEE! Who does that for somebody!? See, Best. Beta. Ever.

This total fangirl moment was brought to you by nevertothird.

**A/N Thank you!: **The response to the last chapter was overwhelming and I can't thank you guys enough. Your responses really fueled me while writing this chapter. For those who have left guest reviews, I can't send you a personal thank you but please know I really appreciate it. Welcome to all the new readers and followers. I love knowing these words are reaching all of you. This is not only the longest, but the most emotional I've ever written, or may ever write again. I hope, when you see what's coming up next in the story, you understand why they had to go through all this. I would love to get your thoughts and feedback.

**A/N Married?!: **To address all of you that were surprised by the marriage reveal in Chapter 5. That was oh-so-very intentional. First, I thought it would be fun if you found out they were married at the same time Jason did. Second, I love the idea that Logan revealed it by laying claim to her. Third, and most importantly, (thank you to my sister for reminding me of this) that was when I wanted you to realize you were not reading a story of courtship-it's not going to end in a wedding because the wedding already happened. This is what happens after our favorite couple said their I dos and rode off in the sunset. This is a story of a marriage-a funny, sexy, loving, and complicated marriage that has it's own unique history and set of problems like any marriage. What made me write this was that I was intrigued about what happens after 'they lived happily ever after'. Would love to hear your thoughts.

* * *

Chapter 7

The kitchen was clean. Not just clean, but restored. Every sign of yesterday's cooking tsunami had disappeared in the past several hours. While she was lying in bed, keeping herself from going to him, Logan had apparently been taking out his anger on the pots and pans. Not a good sign; he hated to clean.

Though it was only six in the morning, there was no trace of him or the dogs in the house. It didn't surprise her that they were out at such an early hour, especially since Logan didn't seem to have gotten any more sleep than she had. But she wanted…no, dammit. She _needed_ to talk to him. If he was hurting half as badly as she was, they needed to find a way to make things right again.

Since she was already showered and dressed, she threw on her coat, pulled up the hood and headed to the dog park. Though it was cold and drizzling out, the sky was just starting to change from black to gray, making the city seem softer in the muted light. There wasn't much foot traffic yet, so she was able to focus on the conversation ahead of her, rather than navigating the streets. Everything she wanted to say to him was cycling through her mind, phrasing and rephrasing until it almost didn't make sense anymore.

The park wasn't busy, just a couple of Corgis with their elderly owner, a woman she'd seen once or twice there before. Veronica stayed outside the gate and leaned her back against the fence so as not to invite conversation. At the sound of a bark, she turned to see Hat and Mc loping toward her, Logan clutching their leashes and running at full speed to keep up. After she'd given the dogs their customary pats and scratches, Logan unleashed the boys and sent them into their playground.

It was a small thing that he waited, holding open the gate until she'd gone through, but she felt buoyed by the kindness of it. Or maybe it was the implication that he wasn't shutting her out. Or was inviting her in. It made her wonder if symbolism applied to real life as well.

Though Logan followed her through the gate, and stood next to her, he didn't glance her way. Not even when he accepted the water bottle she'd brought for him.

Looping the leashes around his neck, he uncapped the bottle and drank deeply while she waited. Once drained, he put it in the pocket of his track pants, then held onto the ends of the leashes and stood watching their dogs frolic, pointedly giving his attention to them instead of her. Mimicking his stance, she also turned to face the large, open area.

They participated in a long moment of silence before she worked up the nerve to speak. "You never came to bed last night."

"I wanted some time alone." His tone was flat and emotionless, his eyes cast down at his feet as he dug the toe of his shoe into the grass.

A familiar prickle started in her eyes, so she also focused on the ground in front of her, and took subtle breaths until she felt the sting go away. "Logan, can we talk about it?"

"We should, but I don't know what else to say." Again, his voice was flat, as if he was trying to keep from giving away what he was feeling.

She preferred his anger to this tight control he was exhibiting. At least when he was angry there was a back and forth, a volley of give and take. But when he was like this, talking to him was akin to throwing herself against a brick wall. He was so damn good at shutting people out; it made her feel a little sick to know he was closing himself off from her.

If he didn't want to talk, then okay. But maybe he would listen. With a deep breath to calm her roiling stomach, she said, "You know, Adam and I talked once, about the lies we tell. We go out on these jobs and adopt these personas. We tell a lot of lies to a lot of good people so we can catch the bad guys. But we tell ourselves that it's okay; the good outweighs the bad in every circumstance."

Logan had stopped fidgeting next to her; she knew he was listening, could feel his eyes on her. However, now that she'd started talking, she had to avoid looking at him. Any indication of how her words were affecting him, good or bad, and she might not be able to finish. She had spent a long, hard night alone facing some uncomfortable truths and he deserved to hear them.

"I didn't have to take this case, but once I read the file, it was too hard to walk away. Then I found out Jason would be my partner. I knew you would be jealous, because I would be if our roles were reversed. But, instead of being honest and dealing with that, or dropping the case, I took it and I lied to you."

He shifted next to her and still she forced herself not to look his way. "It wasn't the first lie, or even the worst one. When Adam and I talked about the lies we tell strangers, for some reason we never talked about the ones we tell ourselves, or the people we love. But you were right, I knew. I knew how much you've struggled with my job. I lied every day when I pretended _not _to know what it was costing you. And I never once asked you what you wanted, because I thought I already knew the answer."

She finally turned to face him, and couldn't banish the tremor that crept into her voice. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not telling you about Jason, and I'm sorry for behaving like my job was more important than how you felt about it. "

The brick wall was gone. His eyebrows were drawn together, and his jaw jutted forward as he took a deep breath. He closed his eyes for a long moment and swallowed before he answered her.

"I've been lying too, letting those silences fill up with all the things I didn't say. I guess I was worried about what would happen if I did bring it up, but nothing changed. And I didn't want to stand in your way. I know how important your job is. How good you are at it. I'm proud of you, Veronica."

This time, when the prickle started she couldn't hold back the tears; the best she could manage was to cross her arms across her chest to try and stifle the sobs that tried to escape. One let loose though, a sort of half-laugh, half-sob. "Why does that make me feel even worse?"

The corners of his mouth twitched at that, the first hint of humor she'd seen in him since last night. He stepped forward and drew her close, hugging her against his chest. His sweatshirt was cold and soaked from the drizzling rain, but she didn't care. She just pressed herself closer against him. The feel of his hand rubbing her back until she'd quieted was a soft comfort.

"And you got something wrong." His voice was a little softer, speaking close to her ear. "I do hate the thought of you working with that torqued-out Brian Bosworth wannabe, but not because I'm jealous."

"You're not?"

"Jealous? Completely, but that's not the problem."

"Then, what is?" She stepped back to see him, and reached up her hands to wipe away her tears.

Logan grabbed her left elbow and held it, keeping the cast elevated and visible since the sleeve of her coat had slipped down. "This. You shouldn't even be working in the field. No matter how safe you say it is, you won't stop until you make an arrest, even if it puts you at risk. And the guy backing you up may let his feelings for you get in the way of doing his job protecting you." He let her arm go and grabbed the leashes again, pulling them against his neck as he looked down at her.

God, she felt stupid, and petty. She'd held back the truth about Jason because she hadn't wanted to deal with Logan's jealousy. But, as she took in the stark fear on that showed on his face, she realized how scared he was for her. She'd spent the last couple of weeks listening to women talk about how their men hurt them in every possible way, and hers was worried about her safety. The irony wasn't lost on her. She reached out and placed her hands on his hips, trying to comfort him with a touch as he had her.

"Logan, there are no feelings between Jason and me. There never were. It was—it was so long ago, and it was just sex. He's a professional; he'll do what he needs to."

With a nod, Logan turned his head to again watch the dogs, his jaw tight. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, I've read his file and I've spent the past week with him. There's nothing to worry about, okay?" He kept his eyes forward, but she could only wait for his response. There wasn't anything else she could say to reassure him about Jason.

He looked down, and studied her eyes for a moment. After a tight nod of agreement, punctuated with, "Okay," he let go of the leash ends so he could wrap her into another hug.

When he pulled away and looked down at her, his expression was stern. He cupped her face with both hands and ordered, "But no more lies, or even goddamn secrets. From now on, I want to know what's going on. As much as you can tell me."

She nodded and accepted the kiss, and the forgiveness he offered. Though this would go into the annals of their relationship, like all their ups and downs, she was glad it had happened. Until he'd mentioned the silences, she hadn't realized just how much distance her job had been putting between them. She'd just viewed it as something _he _had to learn to deal with it, instead of something that was affecting _them. _

* * *

After a subdued goodbye, Logan leashed the dogs and walked them home while Veronica headed for work. The run had gotten rid of his anger, and their talk had given him an immense sense of relief. Add that he'd been up for almost twenty four hours and he felt strangely buzzed, like he usually experienced after a few beers. He let the dogs pull him down the street at their own pace, stopping to let them sniff at every tree and stoop they found interesting, while his mind went over everything again.

When he had talked to Charlie, he'd planned on asking her to quit her job, as if it would fix everything. This morning would have been the perfect time to do that, and he had to ask himself why he didn't.

Maybe because he'd been just as worried when she was a PI. Even if she did stop being an agent, Veronica becoming a stay-at-home wife was laughable. A picture of Jimmy Stewart in _Rear Window_ flashed through his mind; without work to keep her occupied she'd be discovering conspiracies and intrigue all around them. She'd probably uncover a terrorist cell in their neighborhood. An even more disturbing image came to him; a bobcat pacing in a cage, just waiting for a chance to escape.

He could never cage her, and he didn't even want to. He was never going to stop worrying about her; it a part of his makeup. Just as her need for bringing about justice was a part of hers. They could easily bridge the two if they stopped acting like they were separate, conflicting things.

The events of their teen years, her rape, Lilly's murder, and the betrayal of their mothers, had helped create who they were today. He was always going carry that fear of something happening to her, regardless of her job. And she was always going to try and fix the world, even if it put her in danger, because hers had fallen apart so suddenly. None of that was going to change but maybe, now, how they dealt with it would.

Reaching the house, he had to laugh at all these thoughts circling around in his head. Just admitting what had brought them to this recent breach had apparently freed up his mind for some serious introspection and self-analysis. With a chuckle, he thought about how sorry he almost felt for Veronica. She preferred problems that required action, rather than discussion, to solve. But, now that the seal was broken, they were going to have to talk about their feelings and their relationship until she cried 'Girl!'

In the drama of the last several hours he'd managed to forget about his houseguests. When he entered the kitchen, he was annoyed to find the hard work he'd put in had been partially undone; the mess associated with scrambled eggs, sliced apples, and toast were scattered over the stove and breakfast bar. The dogs headed immediately for the den, so it wasn't difficult to figure out where Dick and Laura were.

Low playing music was discernible as he walked through the dining room, but Logan still didn't expect to walk into the middle of a pajama dance party. Dick and Laura were grooving to the classic 'Bye Bye Bye', and it was obvious Dick had taught his tamer club rat moves to his offspring. The dogs were lying on their beds, tired from the run, but alert for any invitation to join in.

As the song ended Dick scooped up Laura in his arms, lifted her shirt to lay a huge raspberry on her exposed skin, and then joined in on the belly laughs he had elicited from her. He released her with a kiss on her forehead and said, "Ok Midge, that was breakfast, a dance, and a stomach fart. Anything else?"

Laura seemed to consider her options for a moment, theatrically propping her chin in her hand while rolling her eyes up and to the right, and pursing her lips. Then she smiled and shook her head. "No. I'm good. I'm gonna go get dressed." She turned and walked toward the dining room so she could go upstairs, throwing a casual, "Hi, Uncle Logan," over her shoulder on the way.

Logan grinned and gave a three fingered, half-assed salute. Planned or not, Mac and Dick had created one awesome kid. Laura was remarkably articulate, due in part to her parent's refusal to use baby talk or simplify their speech in any way. By comparison, at the same age, Jack had talked like he had a wet sock in his mouth. She was reasonably well behaved since Mac, and surprisingly Dick, were firm disciplinarians and didn't spoil her. She carried herself with a confidence identical to her father's, but had a marked intelligence inherited from both of them. Despite Dick's demeanor, nobody who had run a successful real estate company as well, or for as long, as he had was stupid. It was just his candor could be off putting.

"So, what was up your hole last night?" Dick asked, skipping any prelude to his personal question.

"Forget it. I've just been jumpy since Veronica got hurt." This wasn't a conversation Logan wanted to have with Dick, so he attempted to change the subject. "I figured you would come back down for a Halo and beer marathon last night. Instead you were tucked in by ten."

Dick flopped on the couch. "Yeah, but I'm glad I crashed instead of coming back down to chill with you guys. Hangovers and late nights are totally not worth it when your alarm clock wakes you up at 6:30 by putting her fingers in your ears."

"Did the earth just stop turning? I think the Dickster just admitted he found a woman to tame him," Logan couldn't help but tease, a smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth.

Dick leaned forward, uncharacteristically serious. "Hell yes, I'll admit it. You know my world stops and starts with that kid. No fucking way she gets short shrift in the dad department like we did."

His vehemence was surprising; something must have happened. "You haven't mentioned your dad in a while. Have you heard from him?

"Unfortunately."

"How is he?"

"Persona non fucking grata. Dropped by for the first time in almost two years. He laughed at Laura when she spilled grape juice on her shirt, then started to cut her down like we used to do to Cass." Dick shrugged, rolling his eyes, but it was obvious how much it still bothered him. "I kicked him out. She has Mac's mom and dad for grandparents so who needs him?"

At that, Logan had to agree. Big Dick wasn't the psychopath Aaron had been, but he'd done his own share of damage. When Laura came back they made their plans for the day, their options open since the sun had come out.

* * *

Veronica reached the shelter just a few minutes after eight. Jason was switching up where he parked the surveillance van every time, and she softly sang as she neared it. "Knock three times on the ceiling if you hear me…" The answering _tap-tap-tap_ as she passed the van assured her that the wire was working fine.

Entering The Haven, Veronica saw it was a large group today, though Nikki was absent. She spent almost two hours listening to the other women talk about their situations before Pauline singled her out. "Tammy. We're glad to see you today. How was your night?"

Because her butt was numb from the unforgiving metal of the folding chair, it wasn't hard to fake the grimace she affected. "Not great. At first, he had a lot of work to do so he pretty much ignored me. I never thought the day would come that I would appreciate that." Her small grin was met with several knowing chuckles around the room.

Pauline leaned forward, her eyes full of concern. "You said, at first. What happened after that?"

Veronica looked down at her feet to convey she was embarrassed. She knew she looked like hell. The sleepless night and all the tears she'd cried had left their mark on her face and required an explanation. "He stopped ignoring me. I said I wasn't in the mood and he…well, he got upset. So then it was just easier to go along with it. But I had a hard time sleeping afterward."

"Did you think more about leaving," Pauline asked.

Veronica lost her grin and grew serious, her voice quiet. "It's all I think about. But I feel so stuck. I know I can get a restraining order, and stay at a shelter, but I'm so afraid he'll find me. I guess at this point I'm just hoping for a miracle." She shrugged and looked down at her feet, indicating she had nothing left to share.

Tactfully, Pauline let her leave it at that. A few of the other women gave her sympathetic smiles, and the one next to her reached over and grabbed her hand to give it a squeeze. Veronica smiled her thanks back, but the smile froze on her face when she realized the woman had left a folded piece of paper in her fist.

After ten minutes of forcing herself to stay seated, Veronica excused herself to the restroom and locked the door behind her. She seriously had to pee, but also needed the privacy so she could attend to official business.

"Give me two minutes of radio silence, Dragan, then I may have something," she spoke quietly to the empty room. After quickly tending to necessities, she dried her hands and took the paper out of her pocket. '_D&DeL 156 West 56__th__ St, 2pm_'.

She checked her watch and, seeing the two minutes were up, said, "I need you to get pictures. Tall brunette, curly hair, white, late 30s, wearing jeans and a white button up with a black vest."

Message delivered, she returned to the group and waited out the session, then headed out to catch the subway, hoping Jason had gotten the photos they needed.

New York traffic being what it was, she beat him back to the office. Adam found her pacing by Jason's desk and sat down with a grin. "Waiting to jump on him the minute he gets back, eh?"

"Is this what you're passing off as wit these days?"

"I'm just saying, you're really riding him."

"Jesus, knock it off!" Veronica snapped. She wasn't in the mood for his teasing, especially about this.

His eyes open in surprise, he dropped the smirk and watched her pacing for a long moment. "What's got you all riled up?"

Veronica shook her head and bit on a hangnail that had been bothering her all day, and kept moving. The feeling that they could actually unravel this case made her antsy. "I made a contact. I don't know if it's anything, but I'm meeting her at two."

"It's something. You wouldn't be acting like a virgin waiting for a prostitute to show up if it weren't."

She couldn't help but grin at that. "And how many times _did_ you watch Risky Business as a teenager?"

"God help me." Adam rolled his eyes. "Wore out the VHS."

Veronica winced and plopped down into Jason's chair. "VHS. You just dated yourself with that one. And I'm officially distracted. Hey, next time you're over I'll pull out my yearbook. For an 80's dance at our high school Logan wore the pink oxford, tighty-whiteys and Wayfarers."

Adam fixed her with a glare. "Don't you dare, or Trent won't be the only guy crushing on Logan. And if I set my sights on your husband, no way you stand a chance."

She snorted and leaned back in the chair, watching him for a long moment. She needed to talk to somebody about what she was thinking, but couldn't discuss it with Logan until she was sure. It was just hard to know where to start.

Adam met her gaze, finally breaking the silence by asking, "So, are you going to tell me what's going through that pretty head of yours, or are we trying that telepathy thing again?"

She rolled her eyes at the comment, then kept then studied on the ceiling so she didn't have to see his face as she admitted, "I was thinking that I don't want to do this anymore."

"This. Hmmm, as specific as "this" is, I think you need to break it down for me just a bit more."

She sighed and turned her head to look out the window. "This job. I've been doing it for seven years. I'm not sure it's where I want to be anymore."

"Joining the KGB?"

She felt a little of the tension in her shoulders ease as she gave into the banter. She'd seen him do this a hundred times when interviewing witnesses; he distracted them with humor to give his brain time to process a key piece of information they'd just given. He'd bring the conversation back on point soon enough, and by then she'd be relaxed enough to answer any question he asked.

With a laugh, she pretended to think about his suggestion. "Hmmm, no. I could never get that accent right. Plus it's not 1985. I was thinking more the British Secret Service."

Adam chuckled long and low. "You and your Bond fetish. So, during fantasy play, do you wear a suit and make Logan dress up as Miss Moneypenny? I'd like to know those two were finally able to get it on, one way or another."

Faking a shocked gasp, Veronica asked, "He told you? That's it, I'm sending the pictures to Star magazine tomorrow. It's about time they got a Logan Echolls update."

"Forget Star, I'll pay you twice what the photos are worth l if I can give them to Trent. Never have kids," Adam warned jokingly, "they seriously undercut your sex life."

When their laughter quieted, he brought up her leaving again, as she knew he would. "Are you serious about quitting?"

Her shrug was non-committal, coming across more ambivalent than she actually felt. "I don't know. I'm just thinking about it."

Adam, completely serious now, said, "I'd be lying if I said I'm surprised."

"Why?" For her, this line of thought was new, borne out of the events of last night and this morning.

His shoulders rose and fell in a slight shrug. "The past couple of years, you haven't been having as much fun. More frustrated with the business process, as well as homesick for your guy."

Hearing him say the words, she realized he was right. The away assignments had become harder and harder to tolerate, and she'd gone on more than one rant about how rule centric the agency was. The feeling of discontentment had been growing for a while, and she'd never acknowledged it. She'd definitely never talked to Logan about it.

She asked, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I'm selfish and would miss you like crazy." They exchanged a smile before he continued, serious again. "But mostly, because you like being right. If anyone suggested that this job had become wrong for you, it would have made you more determined to stay."

That jolted her. As a teen, she'd dreamed about working for the FBI. It had factored hugely into the picture of who she wanted to be, as well and defining who she was now. Being a PI had been a stepping stone, and a fallback if the agency didn't take her. So what if she'd liked making her own decisions about what cases to take and how to go about investing them? The FBI was the dream, what she'd always wanted.

She had thought about quitting once, briefly, after she was shot. But then her dad had insisted she leave the agency, upset about the dangerous assignments she was taking. Charlie had given her that wounded look and even Weevil, who normally loved her being a badass, had suggested she rethink her career. Instead she had jumped right back into work as soon as she was released from medical leave.

Is that what had happened with her and Logan? The more upset he became about her job, the more determined she had been to do it? Crap, it looked like they had a lot more to talk about.

"Suggestion?" he offered.

"Sure."

"Don't make a quick decision on this one. You have about a million vacation hours banked. Take some time away from here to figure out what you really want. You might just be burnt out."

She nodded her agreement. He was right. And this was a decision that should include Logan, anyway, finally. "Why do you stay?"

Adam let out a sigh, "Because, unlike you, I work well within the rules and protocols. Because I've never want to do anything else. Because I love it and I'm good at it. I'm a lifer."

She reached out and squeezed the hand resting on his thigh. "That actually works for me, because if I do this, I may still need an in from time to time."

"Oh, God. Save me from Veronica Mars and her favors," he lamented with a low chuckle.

Just then Jason rushed in and handed Veronica the memory card from his camera, and Adam got up to leave. "And I know that look. Have fun kids. And Jason?"

"Yeah?" Jason answered.

"Don't let harm come to one hair on her chinny- chin-chin." The teasing lilt was completely absent from his voice, his tone making the cutesy comment into a request.

Jason and Adam exchanged a long look before Jason stuck out his hand. They shook, Adam slapping him on the shoulder and giving Veronica a nod before he turned to go.

"And that's two. What is it about you that makes the men in your life so protective, Mars?" Jason asked.

She shrugged, and examined her fingers, looking for more hangnails to attack. "They love me. Speaking of last night, Logan knows about—about us before; I told him after you guys went home. Don't expect any more dinner invitations, okay?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "No surprise. Look, I consider us sort of friends so I have to ask. Is his temper as bad as it seems, or is he just a drama queen?"

The snort that she let out at that comment was unbidden. As were the giggles that followed. It wasn't that his question was funny, although it kind of was, she just really needed the emotional release after the morning she'd had. She had to wait to answer until she was able to get more than two words out between laughs.

"Both? But yelling and some intense pacing are as far as it goes. He has no problem decking a guy if he thinks it's deserved, but even that he hasn't done in years."

Jason's mouth lifted into a grin at the description. "I'm not sure how I should take that, so I think I'll just suggest we get back to work."

Relieved to be able to put her personal life in the background for a while, Veronica filled Jason in on the note and the two o'clock meeting. "I've only seen her a few times at group. She hasn't talked when I've been there, so I don't know her story. I'll use the pictures and see if I can get a match on her face. You'll be there, and follow her after?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Jason confirmed.

* * *

At two o'clock Veronica sat nursing a bottle of mineral water at Dean & Deluca, waiting for her as-yet-to-be-named friend to arrive. By two-fifteen she had about given up when the woman rushed in and apologized for being late. Veronica pushed an extra mineral water across the table to her as she sat down. "I didn't know what you would want."

The woman grabbed the bottle, twisted it open and took a deep swig. Her voice was deep and exceptionally rough for a woman. "This is fine. Caffeine after noon makes me jittery anyway. I'm Junie." Putting out her hand, Veronica took it in hers and they shook.

Junie's manner was calm and soothing as she leaned toward Veronica. "I know this is weird, asking you to meet me like this. But we can't talk privately in that place."

"That's okay. I have a little time today. What did you want to talk about?"

"What you've said in there. Did you mean it, that you want to disappear?"

She was surprised that the woman just went for it, no hinting around or feeling her out. This could be the break they were hoping for, and Veronica reminded herself to play it carefully. If Junie had something to do with Susan Jameson's and the other women's disappearance, she didn't want to seem too eager and scare her away.

"Um…you're not much for small talk, are you?"

"Not really. I thought you'd be more interested in talking about you. Your freedom. I heard what you said today and I might have that miracle," Junie teased. Her eyes actually freakin' twinkled.

Veronica counted to ten, and waited to see if she would add anything else. When Junie stayed silent, she considered her next move, and realized she had to make the woman sell it. "No offense, but I don't know you. And you're in the same place I am, so if your miracle is so good, why haven't you used it yourself?"

"I _was_ in the same place you are. But now I go because listening to everyone's stories keeps me from going back to him, like AA. It was Pauline's suggestion, when I first came to talk to her. And it works. No one has laid a finger on me in over five years."

Junie really was selling her on this. If Veronica were a Tammy, she'd want to be this woman. She seemed strong, and proud that she'd stood on her own for so long. After a long hesitation, Veronica made a study of tearing the label off her mineral water. "How did you do it? Leave, I mean."

"I'll get to that. But first I need to know if you are serious. If you're just going to go back to him in six months—"

"NO." Veronica's voice was stronger than steel; it was titanium as she answered. She scaled it back to a softer tone. "No. That's why I'm not running away to some shelter. I have to make sure when I leave, it's for good."

"That's what I wanted to hear. So, from what you've said, I take it you don't have any family or friends to help out?" When Veronica shook her head, Junie continued, "That will make this easier."

"Make what easier? How did you get out?"

"Fairy Godfather." At Veronica's skeptical look Junie laughed and explained. "I know it sounds strange, but it's the best way to describe him. This guy, he has money. His father abused his mom for years. I used to work for him and he figured out what was going on with me and my husband. He helped me."

"Helped you how?"

Junie leaned in slightly, upping the intensity of her sales pitch. "I was all alone, like you. It was really easy to just disappear. He got me a new identity, moved me to another town and helped me get set up. Told me that whenever I meet someone I think would use the same opportunity to rebuild their life, I should let him know."

"And have you? I mean, am I the first or have you helped others?"

"A few others. And none of those women have returned to the bastards who hurt them." Again, that pride showed through. Either she was being used as a patsy or she really believed what she was saying. It gave Veronica a cold shiver down her spine to think it was the latter. That the woman knew she was recruiting her for a life of sexual abuse and death, and could act so fucking gleeful about it.

With a reluctant smile Veronica asked, "And you think I'm a good candidate?" She waited for the flattery card to be played, and wasn't disappointed.

"Yeah." Junie eyed her up and down. "Yeah I do. You may not know it yet, but you've got a hell of a backbone."

"So, you have to understand this feels a little too good to be true, right? I mean, who just helps a random stranger?"

"We all have our demons," Junie answered with a shrug.

"How long do I have to decide?"

When Junie was quiet, Veronica looked up from her bottle to see the shrewd expression that was thrown her way. Finally Junie seemed to decide something, and asked, "What's the closest he's ever come to killing you?"

Another staring contest commenced, with Veronica looking away first. She shifted her eyes down to the table a long moment before she lifted her hair off her neck and showed the knife scar she usually kept hidden. "He—he was really drunk and it was a couple of years ago. It hasn't been that bad since. He wouldn't—"

"He would," Junie argued, then unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and opened it to reveal an ugly twist of scars circling her neck. "Tried to hang me when I told him I would leave. And if your guy is anything like my husband, the longer you wait the better the chance he'll figure out something is up with you."

Veronica studied the scars, then reached out a tentative hand to feel their texture. The tears that filled her eyes weren't entirely fake as she looked up to meet Junie's face, now a mask of indifference, and pulled back her hand. She couldn't afford to feel sympathy for this woman, even if her story was true. Not until she found out if she was willingly involved in Susan Jameson's death.

"What do I do?"

"He's coming to town. Meet with him, day after tomorrow. Hear what he has to say. You know where Russell Golding Park is?"

"Jersey?"

Junie downed the rest of her mineral water, then stood to leave. "Yeah. Meet me there at noon, by the playground." She paused, then leaned down to warn, "And don't mention this to anyone. Not at the shelter or to anyone else, okay? It's the only way we can keep you safe."

Again Veronica nodded, and Junie left. The woman was an enigma. Assuming she was a part of this whole thing, if her story was true, what would make her recruit women for such a horrible fate? If it wasn't, what the hell had really happened to her? It was one more mystery to solve. Making sure no one was watching, Veronica wrapped Junie's water bottle in a napkin and slipped it in her bag, then headed back to the office.

* * *

When Logan, Dick and Laura returned just after seven that night, Logan trudged up the three flights of stairs to go to bed. Even if he had slept the night before, a day with Laura would put him in the ground. The kid had outgrown her naps several months ago and moved non-stop throughout the day. The dogwalker had texted him that he'd walked and fed the boys, so he knew Hat and Mc were taken care of. He was able to give them a quick hello pet and leave them downstairs to play with Laura.

He walked into the bedroom and found Veronica zonked out, lying fully clothed on their bed. From the hallway light, he could see she was wearing lounge pants and a hoody that looked pretty damn comfortable, so he didn't bother trying to get her undressed. Instead he just kneeled at the foot of the bed, kicked off his shoes and grabbed her ankles, spreading her legs apart. Then he fell forward, resting his head on her stomach while he nestled, belly down. Feeling her underneath him allowed him to relax fully. Once again, she had come home safe.

Veronica came awake with a chuckle, and then ran her fingers through his hair so her nails raked his scalp. He loved it when she did that. It was somehow sexy and tender at the same time, and he burrowed his head in a little deeper to let her know he wasn't moving.

"Hey you."

"Hey," he answered. "Sorry I woke you."

"I wasn't really asleep yet. I only got home about fifteen minutes ago. I'm sorry I had to go into work today. It felt wrong to leave you after everything that happened."

"It's okay, it gave me time to think."

"Do you hear the ominous music in the background, or is it just me?" He could hear the question, and the trepidation in her voice behind the joke. It was too soon after their fight to put them back another emotional ride.

He shifted, lifting up her hoody so he could rest his cheek on her bare stomach, needing a little more contact with her. "And you say I'm dramatic. It's nothing major, just some random thoughts and a few epiphanies. Nothing that won't keep. At least, for a time when I haven't spent the day trying to keep up with the Daddy Daughter Dynamic Duo."

"Fair enough. "I did some thinking too. I have to finish this case, but when it's over, I want us to take some time away. We can talk about it all then. I can put in the vacation request tomorrow."

"To where? For how long?"

"Here, anywhere, as long as it's just the two of us. For at least a month. I just think we need some time."

"Throw in a little fun and a lot of sex and you've got yourself a deal." Feeling her stomach shake when she laughed, he smiled and placed a kiss by her belly button.

"What did Laura convince you guys to do today?" Veronica asked him after her laughter had stopped and they'd been quiet a long moment. Her hand had stopped moving, so he reached up to press it. Taking the hint she continued the action on his scalp.

He groaned, thinking over the long day. "We all took turns picking something. Laura chose the zoo, which lasted until after three. Then Dick wanted to do the fishing at Meer, which was hilarious. Neither of them had fished before and they were totally grossed out."

"Like you were when my dad first taught you," Veronica laughed. "And what about when it was your turn to pick?"

He waited a long moment, then warned, "If I tell you, you may have grounds for a divorce. Ice cream may have been involved."

Veronica gasped, "You went to Serendipity without me? Wasn't that one of our wedding vows?"

"More of a postscript at the end. I never actually vowed it," Logan reminded her, but turned his head to bury his face in her lap in self-defense anyway. The blows of the pillow at the back of his head set him laughing as he explained, "Sorry, I knew she'd love it and it was my turn. I couldn't think of anything else."

The pillow assault stopped and Veronica heaved a sigh, her voice bitter. "Fine, as long as she loved it."

When they'd settled down, time he put her hand back on his head for the fourth? fifth? time, and she resumed the scalp raking with a snort. By now she should know not to stop.

He was close to drifting off when he remembered he still owed her a truth. He hated to bring it up, afraid it would shatter the peace they had reached, but he had to. "Veronica?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something I need to tell you." Her fingers on his head paused, the echo from her words the night before ricocheting in the darkened room. Suddenly his scalp stung as she fisted his hair and lifted up his head so she could look at him.

"If you're trying to be funny, it's too soon."

Though he hadn't been making a joke, her reaction made him smile. "I'm not. There's something I've been holding back."

The fingers relaxed, but he kept his head up so he could see her face. "This morning we promised no more secrets. So, this really is no big deal, but I ran into Melissa the other night. She's moved to New York and works at Swells."

"Melissa."

"Yeah, the one who—"He hated even bringing the name into their bed, and he really didn't want to rehash his history with the woman. Luckily, Veronica had a good memory and saved him the trouble.

"I know who she is. You wouldn't let me out of your sight when we were in LA that time. I figured it was because you were afraid I would go look her up."

"Was I wrong?"

Her silence was answer enough. With an eye roll she plopped back on the pillow, her thinking practically audible from where he was resting. "So, she's working at Swells", she reiterated, the forced casualness in her voice making him put his head down and laugh against her stomach.

If this moment had been drawn into the Veronica Mars graphic novel, visions of revenge would be dancing over her head. She was always quick to rise to his defense, his tiny Valkyrie, and it always made him feel warmth in his belly when she did it.

"No, you're not gonna kill her. I just thought I should tell you before we run into her there. Promise me you'll let it go and just focus on finishing your case."

"I'm a great multi-tasker."

"Veronica." The Keith Mars warning tone he was channeling—he'd actually practiced this- might be a bit much, but he really didn't want her sidetracked.

"Fine," she grumbled. "I promise to leave her alone—until the case is over." Reaching her hand down, she resumed her earlier finger raking. He knew that this time she did it to distract him from any more talk about Melissa, but he wasn't complaining.

In the quiet that followed, he wanted to ask about her day, but after their talk that morning he wasn't sure if he was ready to go there yet. She might not hold back details this time and he was too tired to process them. Instead, after a long while of just lying together, he asked a question that had been circling his mind since the night before.

"Do you think my mom would have left him, if she'd gone to a place like the one you're investigating?"

The hand on his scalp froze, and Logan could practically hear her processing the question, and all its implications.

"What do you know about that?"

"Just what you've told me. Your injuries gave you credence to your cover, it's a safe place, but a man's presence wouldn't be appropriate and you don't know if you have the time to build trust. It wasn't that hard to figure out. Plus, I know what kinds of cases you investigate."

He was grateful when she didn't deny it, and instead tried to answer his question. "I don't know about your mom, Logan. A lot of those women are stuck because they don't have easy options, or they are afraid. Or both. Your mom—I don't know what her reasons were."

Veronica was the only person he ever talked to about his parents, but they'd never talked about this. About why his mom stayed. He had his theories; she loved Aaron, she was weak, she was scared, and the worst thought—she wasn't the one getting hurt. It was probably some combination of all them.

"What brought this up?" The concern in her voice reached him, and he knew she wouldn't be satisfied until he answered. It was one of the reasons they worked; she wouldn't let him snark his way out of a difficult conversation. He rarely even tried anymore.

He scooted up the bed to lie on his side, facing her, and lay an arm across her waist. "A couple of things. Last night I figured out where you were going every day. Then today, Dick told me he kicked his dad out when he said something mean to Laura. It reminded me of your dad, the way he would do anything to protect you."

"And your mom—"Veronica started.

"Would just hide with her wine and her pills and pretend it wasn't happening. I never even heard them fight about it. She would just ask me to stop making him so mad."

He still couldn't understand how she could do that; the thought of leaving Laura or Jack to suffer at the hands of his father left his blood cold, and they weren't even his children. Fury, pity and love for her warred for dominance inside him, until Veronica gave him a smile of understanding and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Then, once again, everything stilled and his emotions tempered to simply regret for the childhood he could have had if his mom had been stronger.

"Which you gave up on when you were about fourteen. Then you, Will Hunting, started choosing the wrench."

Logan shrugged, knowing she was right. "Yeah, well, that was around the time he caught me crying about something, probably Lilly. He told me to knock it off or he'd give me something to cry about. I figured with that kind of logic working against me, I might as well be getting hit for a reason."

The look she gave him, full of pity and sorrow, had him burying his face in her shoulder so he could stop the tears that threatened to fall. No sleep, and the fight they'd had the night before, had all his emotions too close to the surface.

She started on his scalp again and, when he'd calmed down, he was able to get to the point of all this. "Veronica, you have to promise me something."

"Apparently it's my day to make promises. What is it?"

"I've read a lot about the cycle of abuse. If you ever think, for even a second that I would hurt you, you have to leave me—"

Veronica shoved his head off her shoulder and scooted up to rest against the headboard, facing him. "You're not him Logan. You've never been anything like him. As badly as we've fought, you've never once threated me, or raised a hand to me. It isn't in you; it's not something you have to fight to control. This assignment at the shelter…you should hear these women's stories. They just make me appreciate who you are even more. So please, stop."

Logan sat up as well and faced her. "Nobody plans on being an abuser. But I want you to promise, not just for your sake, but for mine. Don't leave me in a position where-where I think it's okay to hurt you. Please."

The look in Veronica's eyes as she studied him, then nodded, almost broke him. Feeling the tears threaten again, he forced them back. He had to make sure she was protected, so he kept going. "This was all running around my head today, so I called the accountant and had him put money in a numbered account for you. I can't access it. If you ever want to leave me you, just go to him. He'll make sure you're taken care of."

He was familiar with the way anger tightened her mouth and darkened her eyes, so he leaned forward and kissed her just as she opened her mouth to speak. When she resisted he whispered, "Shut up. Shut up and listen." She pressed her lips closed so he continued, tilting his forehead to rest against hers and free her mouth. "I hope to God you never need to go, but I had to give you an out. You never cared about money, but whenever my parents fought, my dad threatened to cut her off. I don't want that to be an issue between us, and, if you ever leave me, whatever the reason, I need to know you're taken care of."

When he pulled back to read her expression, the exasperated look on her face was a relief. At least she wasn't mad anymore. He was even more relieved when she rolled her eyes and muttered, "Jackass. I'm taken care of because I _am _with you. I need you, not some damn numbered account. Why do you think I came back to you four years ago? And why I've stayed?"

Calling him by her pet name was a sign they were through the heavy conversations from the day. He took in a breath of relief, and let it out with a chuckle. "The sex obviously. Which, coincidentally, is the epilogue to all our heavy conversations. Do you think if there's a layer of bubble wrap between us? Or you could get on top…or maybe standing would be less painful?"

"Even if I thought you were serious," Veronica said, sliding back down to her former prone position. "I am way too tired tonight. But help yourself; there's a box of tissues on the nightstand."

Logan looked at her lying there, then got on his knees, picked up the tissue box and faced her. He reached for his fly and asked, "If you could just pull up your shirt—"

"Ew, no!" Veronica laughed, and reached out a foot to kick the tissues away.

He froze, his mouth agape while theatrically staring at his now empty hand, his other in suspended animation over his zipper. He lifted his eyes to glare menacingly at her and threatened, "That crossed a line Mars. It's going to cost you."

She smirked at him. "It's Echolls, Echolls. At least between us. And we've established that I'm not up to my usual form of payment."

"No, but I'm willing to be flexible. There's something else you do that I like," he reminded her.

Waiting until she snorted and rolled her eyes, then gave her nod of consent, he got comfortable, taking off his shirt and jeans. Again he burrowed his head in her lap and hugged her hips. His body began to relax the second she started stroking his back and singing in a low voice. Her sappy choice, 'How Do I Live', made him smile. For someone who accused him of being a hopeless romantic, she knew the words to some pretty sentimental ballads. Or maybe she just knew him, because those words, coming from her, were just what he needed tonight. In the end, it wasn't necessary to do it twice. They were both asleep before she'd finished the third chorus.

* * *

A/N: For those who want more action and less emoting from here on out...stick with me, I got you covered.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Thank you so much for all the reviews. I love hearing how you are feeling about the story as it unfolds, and appreciate that you've taken the time give me feedback. For everyone who has favorited or followed, or are dropping in every week to read, I thank you, I thank you, I thank you. It's inspiring to know my words are reaching you.

* * *

Chapter 8

An annoying _blat! blat! blat!_ kicked Veronica out of a deep sleep. Her instinct was to dive and shut the damn thing down but, with Logan's arm tightly around her waist, that was impossible. Sometime during the night he had shimmied up the bed and made her the little spoon.

When she struggled to free herself, he instead reached out a long arm and slapped the alarm clock into submission. After lifting it so he could see the time, he set it down again and pulled her close, groaning and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"Seriously? You? This early?" His yawning voice sounded as if he hadn't learned to properly use his tongue yet. She had a fleeting thought to ask him to sing 'Puttin' on the Ritz', but it was gone before she could articulate it.

The room had grown cold during the night, and neither of them had gotten under the covers. Cuddling with him was akin to putting her back to a bonfire during a winter beach party; though her front side was freezing her back was almost too hot. Ignoring the temperature discrepancy, she tried to force the heaviness to take over her limbs again. Ten more minutes of sleep wouldn't make a difference, right? Yet, in spite of her efforts, her mind's cogs started turning. The reason for the early alarm came back to her, and a to-do list for the day started forming in her mind.

The arm draped over her waist tightened and Logan's voice reached her, sounding less sleepy this time.

"Veronica. Don't you need to get up?"

The half-formed list was minimized in favor of a replay of their talk yesterday, when she'd agreed to be more open about her job. She flipped onto her back and turned her head toward his on the pillow they shared. The light from the hallway was still dimly illuminating the room, so she could see him looking at her and watch his face for any reactions.

"Yeah. We caught a break yesterday. There's a lot of prelim work to do." She watched as he took the information in, his questioning face morphing into one of wary curiosity.

"Prelim. Prelim to what?" He now sounded very much awake, all resemblance to Young Frankenstein's monster gone. She swallowed the vague answer she was about to give out of habit. For her, playing bait for sex traffickers was just a part of the job, but she knew it would worry him, and she hated that.

"There's a meet scheduled for tomorrow; if we're lucky we'll get enough to break this case. But today we need to dig for info about our contact and scout the location." As an answer, she knew it was still lacking specifics, but it really couldn't tell him much more. He reached over her again, this time to turn on the light, and looked her sternly in the eye.

"You said nothing dangerous while you're hurt."

"It's just a meet, so there's nothing to worry about, and I said that almost two weeks ago. First off, I'm better and secondly, I can't control the timeline. This is when it's happening. "

She softened her words by reaching up a hand to trace the lines of his face. Just recently he'd started to show a hint of etching across his forehead, and around his eyes. The effect was disarming; he was still incredibly handsome, but with a wizened appearance. Like his face had finally caught up to him. He stopped her ruminating when he caught her hand in his and pressed it against his chest.

"Better isn't healed. And from what that guy Jason said, you're doing this alone while he sits on his at a safe distance."

To prevent him from getting up do his usual, angry pacing she sat up and straddled him, making it impossible for him to move unless he moved her, too. His cheeks were warm under her hands, his morning stubble scratching her palms in a pleasant way as she cupped his face.

"This is what I do, and I'm good at it. Jason knows his part. Will you _please_ stop worrying?"

"Right. While I'm at it I'll get McDonalds to keep the McRib on the menu, and Michael Bay to stop making movies. Anything else?"

Logan's anxiety and sarcasm weren't lost on her, but his remark still made her laugh. "Actually, those would pretty much make my millennium. But if you feel like a topper, could you also get The Fratellis to make a new album?"

Between her palms, a bittersweet smile graced his lips. "Let's start with that. You pack and I'll make the plane reservations to get us to Scotland tonight. With my charm and your moxie we'll have them in the studio within hours."

A rare wave of melancholia washed over her when she realized how much she'd rather follow his plan than complete her work on this case. They hadn't taken time for just the two of them in so long, and she recalled how lighthearted he was whenever she was on vacation from work. She'd love to see that levity in him again.

"Hey, where did you go? I thought you were trying to distract me." Logan's brow was furrowed with concern as his eyes scanned her face, as if trying to read her thoughts.

Her smile was forced as she lightly pressed it against his lips. "If by charm, you meant bank account, that could work. And I was just thinking about Scotland. Maybe while we're there I can finally tie up this Loch Ness thing."

"No way. No working, even if Scotland Yard begs for your help."

"You know Scotland Yard is in London, right?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter. They would know the minute you crossed the pond. Trips are supposed to be work free."

"Speaking of work, I have to get in the shower." The stiffness in her limbs as she clambered off him prompted an intense stretching session. Though still tender, she had even more reach today than she did a couple of days ago, a fact she subtly flaunted.

During this demonstration Logan sat up and turned so his feet were planted on the floor, his elbows resting on his knees. Rather than the suggestive comment or eyebrow commentary that she'd hoped her little show would prompt, he refocused on the talk about her workday.

"About this meeting tomorrow...you said it might be enough to break the case. What did that mean?"

"That, if I'm lucky, I'm meeting the person, or people, in charge. Once we know who they are, we'll have a direction to look in and might find enough to bust them. Or, at the very least, let me stop working undercover."

"People in charge of what? And why exactly are you meeting with them?"

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think of how to phrase things without rebuilding that wall between them.

"I'm doing my best not to keep secrets from you, but I've already told you too much. Any more and I'll be obligated to drop myself from the investigation. We can't afford the setback that would cause."

His brow creased, laying the groundwork for more lines on his face. "I don't know what that means."

"That I'm it. It's taken almost two weeks and some serious work to get us this contact. If I blow this, she could disappear and we may not get another chance. People's lives are at risk."

"So this meeting tomorrow is dangerous." She could see the tension in his shoulders and jaw, but was helpless to ease them. She could do her best to comply with his request for honesty, but she couldn't dictate how he would feel about what she told him.

"Comparatively speaking, no. It's just an introduction and a conversation."

"But you just said—"

"Logan, don't fixate on this. You remember how excited Henry got when she found out you were meeting with Joseph Gordon-Levitt? You told her it was just another day for you. Well, this is just another day for me."

He studied her for a long moment, then put his head down and shook it in resignation, or acceptance. Maybe, for him, they were the same thing.

"Okay. Damnit, okay. But someday, long after you've gotten your gold watch, you'll have to fill me in on those other days. Not now, thought. I'm not sure I can take those stories in conjunction with what you're currently doing."

She thought about the moments on the job that he didn't know about. The ones so scary even she and Adam rarely discussed them. Some experiences were best learned from and never brought up again.

Using another stretch to hide the shudder that ran up her spine, she just gave him a grin and a shrug, passing it off as his loss for missing out on the fun stories—there were those too.

"I know you can't give me any guarantees, but at least tell me you won't take unnecessary risks." His eyes were almost pleading with her as he asked for this concession.

She stopped the stretching and came over to stand in front of him. "I can't give you any guarantees, you're right. But there are some risks that are necessary, and I hope you can accept that. At least long enough to get us through this case."

He nodded and captured one of her hands in his before asking, "And then?"

"And then we'll have lots of time to talk over everything we both thought about yesterday after our fight, including my job. Maybe while we we're in Scotland."

Logan chuckled and pulled her down to sit on his leg, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist while hers went around his shoulders. "That crack about going to Scotland was a joke."

She'd known it was, but was giving the idea merit anyway. "I'm taking it seriously. We never did get a honeymoon."

"Scotland? Really?"

"Sure, why not? There are lots of places to surf there." At least she assumed so. It was surrounded by ocean.

"Hmmm. What else? Talk me into it." His expression was thoughtful, as he considered her suggestion.

She smiled and threw out whatever popped into her head. "Tasting the finest whiskey at its source, exploring old castles, hiking in the mountains, romantic walks on the moors, rolling around in the heather, rainy nights snuggled by a large fire, you in a kilt—"

Each activity caused his smile to grow by increments, but the last made him laugh. "You had me until kilt."

"Even if I…" she tilted her head to the side and gave him an exaggerated pout, opening her eyes wide and blinking them vapidly.

"Especially not if you…" as he mocked her vamping, it was her turn to laugh. "Your head tilts have been overplayed. I'm immune."

"Ok, no kilt. But what about the rest? Scotland?" It was all she could do not to visibly cross her fingers, hoping he would agree. The suggestion had been impulsive, but in selling it to him she had become invested in the idea.

He rested his forehead against hers before tipping his face so he could kiss the tip of her nose. "Sounds perfect."

* * *

Before she headed for the shower, Logan kissed Veronica goodbye, knowing she would be gone before he got back from taking the dogs for a run. It was a cold morning, but warmer than it had been for weeks at that hour, and he was still full of energy when they got home. The cleaners had come the day before so nothing in the house required his attention. Heading down to the basement, the dogs curled up for their naps while he spent some time with the free weights, the effort required easing his anxiety over whatever the hell Veronica was about to do. But he was glad she'd told him. He'd never realized how much distance he'd created between them by shutting down any talk about her job. Sure, he was freaking out a little, but at least this time it had a specific reason and time to focus on.

Since that reason was her upcoming meeting and that time was tomorrow, today he would allow himself the excitement about the trip they'd discussed. They had both been working so hard the past year that they were due some fun, and the idea of an entire month to relax together sounded like Nirvana, no matter where they did it.

She'd had a point about the honeymoon. Their wedding had been a blast, spent on a yacht off the coast of Nova Scotia, but it wasn't followed by the solitary romantic experience they were due. After Adam and the ship captain had co-officiated the ceremony, they had spent three days relaxing with the few people they considered family.

The captain had taught him, Keith and Adam to deep sea fish while everyone else spent lazy afternoons reading or watching movies. The crew served lavish dinners every evening, which were followed by dancing, poker tournaments, and karaoke contests. Nights had been spent with Veronica in their suite, getting too little sleep because, despite being back together for almost three years, marriage had added a new enthusiasm to their lovemaking. On their wedding night, she had made a joke about him 'laying' claim to her. While she'd been kidding, it was probably more on target than even she realized. He hadn't been able to get over the fact that she belonged to him, in every way that it was possible to belong to anybody.

Finally relaxed enough to settle down to working, he headed up the stairs. He stopped in the kitchen to drop food in the dogs' bowls, then went through to the den to open the doors to the garden in case they needed to go out. He smiled, noticing a light pink stain on the carpet, remembering the night they'd gotten engaged. If he'd known it was coming, that there was a possibility she would say yes, he would have planned something outrageous and romantic. Instead she had taken him by surprise…

_They had been working side by side in the kitchen, putting together dinner. She was irritable, evidenced by the number of cabinets she slammed and questions she gave curt answers to. Whatever was bothering her, she obviously wasn't ready to talk about it yet, so he worked in silence, hoping when she got to the boiling point she would spill. _

_Finally, after the lasagna was in the oven, the salad was waiting in the fridge, and he had spent thirty minutes watching her grouse more than Walter Matthau, he decided it was time to give her a little push._

"_So, are you going to talk about what's bothering you, or do you want to take a turn at the punching bag downstairs?"_

"_Neither. I'll get over it. Just let it go." She grabbed a couple of wineglasses and the bottle he'd decanted and headed toward the den. Her snappish tone wasn't inviting but, then again, she had taken two wine glasses with her._

_Settling down on the couch, she poured the wine for both of them, then sat back to watch the fire, absentmindedly petting McCoy when he laid his head in her lap. Logan waited a few minutes, hoping the combination of the wine, the fire, and the canine affection would relax her enough to talk, if she could. _

"_If it's about work and you promise you'll talk to Adam, I'll let it go, like you ask. But if it's something else…" he trailed off, hoping she would fill in the silence._

"_Can you just leave it alone? This isn't really how I want to spend the evening," she snapped. _

_If she didn't take the easy out, by saying she'd talk to Adam, something personal was bothering her. Which meant he didn't have to stop pushing. _

"_I'm not leaving it alone until you talk to me."_

_She reached forward and roughly set her glass on the coffee table, disrupting McCoys's bliss. He backed up and went to lie on the pillows with Hat instead. Then Veronica jumped to her feet, her knee knocking her glass off the low table and spilling red wine all over the area rug. _

"_Fuckety fuck fuck fuck!" She'd taken off for the kitchen at a speed that was charged with as much anger as frustration, returning within moments with a couple of towels and a half-full bottle of white wine. _

_Logan watched the energy she'd put into the stain, first blotting it, then saturating it with the white wine before working at blotting again. He wanted to help, to even take the task off her hands, but knew she needed the activity. Especially since it meant she could avoid talking to him a little longer._

_But after five minutes, it was enough. The stain would need more drastic measures to come out anyway. When she had used up the entire bottle of white and tossed it to the side, he got down on his knees behind her, leaned forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, and whispered her name. Within a second, she transferred her energy to him. Throwing the towels to the side, she pivoted around to face him, and reached up to thread her fingers into his hair, then pulled him down into a kiss._

_Surprised, he kissed her back. The tension from the previous half hour finally had a direction for both of them, and the kiss was more a gnashing of teeth than anything else. He wrapped a hand around her waist and tipped her back, catching their weight with his free hand before lowering her the last couple of inches to the ground. _

_He tried to slow things down, grabbing her wrist and pinning it at her side when she'd reached for his fly. He wanted her; the bulge in his pants was evidence enough of that. And it wouldn't have been the first time they'd thrown a bout of sex into a fight. But this was something different. _

_Stopping the kissault, he pulled back to look at her. "Can we take a minute here? What the hell is going on?"_

_Since one hand was trapped and the other didn't have the right angle to reach him, she improvised by wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing into him instead. Her heat and the pressure against his hard-on had almost convinced him to give her what she wanted, and sort out the reasons why later. Almost._

"_For someone who finds ways to intentionally get me in this mood, you seem awfully confused." Her head struck forward, cobra-like, and captured his ear for an all-too-brief moment before he pulled it away. If he let that continue he would get too carried away to stop things. _

"_There's a difference," he answered, pinning both her hands above her head so she couldn't lift it too far. She countered by using her hips to create more friction between them, making him curse his damn conscience. He had to use his own hips to press hers into the carpet so she couldn't move them. _

"_Dammit, stop! It's okay to do this when we're in the same fight, but I don't know what the hell this is." As close as they were physically at that moment, he felt like they were miles apart. She had him confused, angry, concerned, horny, and worst of all, helpless. He couldn't help her figure it out if she wouldn't even talk to him. _

_Anger again replaced saucy as her featured mood and she started wriggling beneath him, this time trying to get away. "It's nothing. Just…dammit, let me up."_

_Instead, he did the opposite, collapsing on top of her until there was no more space between them, removing any room she had to maneuver. He tucked his face in the crook of her neck and found her pulse throbbing under his lips, the anger and physical effort having increased her heart rate past normal._

"_I will. After you tell me what's going on."_

_He outweighed her by ninety pounds so, when she started bucking underneath him, he was able to patiently wait until she gave up. Lifting his head, he was surprised to feel the air cool warm tears that had fallen on the back of his neck. _

_She refused to make eye contact with him, instead staring angrily at the ceiling while continuing to cry silently. _

_She was so tough, so much of the time. Did it make him cruel that he appreciated seeing her break once in a while? Maybe, but when you considered the things she saw every day in her job, he knew it would be worse if she became inured to her own emotions. _

_But he didn't want to be the cause of her tears. The harder she'd fought him, the more convinced he'd been that she was upset because of something he'd done. But he didn't know what it meant that she wasn't fighting anymore. She was crying like she'd already lost and it made him more desperate to get to the bottom of this._

_She was trying to mop up her face with just her hands, but couldn't seem to stop crying. He took off his t-shirt, and used it to catch her tears and held her until they were done falling, her anger seeming to go with them. The oven went off to let them know the lasagna was done cooking, but they both ignored it since he had programmed it to automatically shut off once the time was up. He didn't care if it burnt the house down, he wasn't moving. _

"_Veronica, talk to me."_

"_It's stupid. And I'm mad because I know it's stupid. I'm sorry I was taking it out on you."_

_Hat, unable to hold back any longer, belly crawled to where she was laying and put his face next to hers. She hugged his huge head, giving him a scratch and a kiss to reassure him she was okay._

_Logan almost put his head next to hers, searching for the same comfort. But it wouldn't mean anything without an explanation. Lying at her side, he propped his head on his hand and looked down at her, her blonde hair mixing with the dog's motley colored fur as the two head-snuggled. _

"_Apology accepted, but not needed. Now fess up."_

_She gave a big sigh and rolled her eyes, but he could swear she looked embarrassed. "It was a few different things that kind of happened all at once. I was helping Adam put something together for his and Trent's wedding anniversary. It's a DVD of pictures and video clips from all their years together, and Adam was narrating their love story over it."_

"_Schmaltzy."_

"_Right? But Trent will love it. Anyway, over their wedding clip he said something like 'When you said 'I do', I learned there was joy in belonging to somebody'."_

"_Okay…you said a few different things. What else?" He didn't want to make any assumptions based on just that, so he stopped himself from following that one statement down the rabbit hole. But he felt sweat break out on his upper lip as his heart picked up speed, hope and excitement coursing through him._

"_It made me realize, we only talked about marriage a couple of times, the last over a year ago." He shook his head at that, wanting to make sure they were clear on this._

"_We've never had that conversation. When we first got back together I made a couple of jokes, and when I broached the subject over a year ago, you said you weren't ready to talk about it."_

"_I wasn't, then, and I know it discouraged you. But I've been thinking about that whole thing, about belonging to each other. Then last night…" Her eyes broke from his to look up the ceiling and blink rapidly, like she was trying to hold back more tears. _

_He searched his memory in a panic for anything that could have happened the night before to cause this upset, and found nothing. She'd been working at the dining room table so he'd played video games until after she went to bed. They'd barely spoken after dinner._

"_Veronica, what happened last night?"_

"_I could kind of hear you and Dick talking over the headsets while you played. And he asked you if you were finally going to put a ring on it. It caught my attention." _

"_And I said 'that's one mistake I'm not going to make. Why mess with a relationship that's working just fine?'" She nodded and this time the tears did start to fall again. He caught one on his lips as his kissed her temple, the saltiness seeping onto his tongue. He let out a sigh of relief that this was all based on a misunderstanding, one that was easy to rectify. _

_He used his fingers to brush off the hair that had fallen onto her forehead and made sure she was looking at him. "Veronica, Dick wasn't asking about you. 'Put a ring on it' is what he says instead of signing a contract. He was asking if I'd signed that studio contract so that would obligate me to write whatever crap they threw my way, instead of just giving them first look at my spec scripts."_

_Her brow had furrowed as she'd processed that, then she'd rolled her eyes and pointed to herself. "This face? My 'I wish I could rewind time so this never happened face'."_

"_Not so fast, Doc Brown. Are we talking about this?" If hope had sped up his pulse before, now it was shoving his heart into his throat. He tried to swallow it down as he waited for her answer._

"_Do you want to? Talk about it I mean?" she asked and she bit the bottom corner of her lip, a sure sign of nervousness._

"_Veronica, I've wanted to marry you since we were nineteen years old. I've just been waiting for some sign you were ready."_

"_Um, I think my blubbering on the floor like a girl counts."_

"_If you say so. Wait, does that mean we're getting married?"_

_She nodded, and bit her bottom lip again for a brief moment until her smile grew too big to hold back. His matched, so their follow up was less a kiss and more an exchange of laughter between their mouths. After a moment she tipped her head back until she could see the dogs and commanded, "Boys, SEX."_

_As the boys got up and padded out of the room, he looked down at her and laughed. "Yeah?"_

"_Why not? I'm already lying in a wet spot." Realizing she'd been on top of the wine-soaked rug the whole time they'd talked, he laughed and gathered her up to be on top of him. _

_As he lifted the shirt off her head and removed her bra in a couple of quick motions he told her, "That stain? Commemorative. Don't clean it."_

_She laughed, and then gasped as he caught her nipple between his teeth. "Wouldn't dare." …_

So they had gotten married, but had postponed the honeymoon because she had to rush back for a case, and he was on a deadline for a screenplay. Since then, they had taken only one brief vacation spent visiting Wallace, Dick and Mac in California, followed by jaunt up to Oregon to see Keith. There hadn't been an opportunity to just spend a few weeks playing and loving each other without the rest of life's obligations.

He welcomed the distraction of planning their trip to keep his mind off what she was facing at her job, and started focusing on the details. Not able to stand hotel rooms since living in one for so long, they would have to find a house to rent. Maybe even a small castle. If they did that, maybe they could take the dogs. Otherwise Charlie would probably watch them. His fingers started itching for a keyboard so he could research historical sights to visit, images from 'Braveheart' running through his head. His parents had taken him lots of places around the world, but had somehow never made it to Scotland, so it would be as new to him as it was to Veronica.

On the way up the stairs, he ran into Dick, just emerging from the guest bedroom. The sound of 'Myth Busters' could be heard from the partially opened door so it appeared, for the moment, Laura was occupied.

Dick's hair had grown out a bit and it was sticking out in four different directions. Looped over his shoulder was a hanger with a classic, black pinstriped suit; what Dick referred to as his New York uniform.

"Dude, perfect. I totally forgot to pack a tie. Can I borrow one?"

"You have meetings today?" Dick had come into town on business but, as usual, he buffered one afternoon of meetings with a couple of play days on each side. The guy was savvy when it came to taking advantage of tax write-offs for travel.

Dick nodded. "Yeah, but shouldn't take too long. They start at twelve and should be done by three. Then we have a property to go look at."

"Do you need me to watch Laura? I owe her another trip Alice's Tea Cups. " Logan had never pictured himself as the babysitting type, but spent a lot of time with Jack, and often took care of Laura when Dick was in town for meetings. He'd found he enjoyed spending time with the kids. There was a freedom in hanging with people who had so few expectations of you.

When he'd tried to explain it to Veronica, she'd said it explained a lot about his friendship with Dick.

"You can do the tea place with her tomorrow. The office I'm going to today has an on-site daycare. If she doesn't like it she can just hang out with me at the meeting and color. She doesn't know what's going on, but she likes hearing everyone argue."

"You're kid is weird."

"Yeah, but she's Mac-weird. So it's like, weird, but in the best possible way. She went to a meeting with me last week, then started saying 'fiscal responsibility' over and over. Said she liked how much it used her lips." Dick laughed as he caught Logan mouthing the words, to see what she meant.

Having Dick in front of him gave him and idea. "Hey, question. Does your company own any property in Scotland? Veronica and I might take a trip and need house to rent."

"We just expanded our vacation rentals into the UK last year. I'll have my ass email you a list."

"I think he'd prefer being called your assistant," Logan remarked dryly.

Dick's grin was incorrigible. "Whatever. Still traveling incognito?"

"Unless we want to spend our vacation dodging photographers."

"Cool. When you pick a place just let me know and I'll reserve it under my name, then."

Finally climbing the last flight of stairs, Logan delayed getting on the computer in favor of getting himself cleaned up first. Whether he was researching their trip or tackling the screenplay, he knew it would be hours before he left his desk again.

Just as he finished his shower he heard his cell going off and ran panicked to the bedroom, naked and dripping, to answer it. That specific ringtone, 'Paparazzi', hadn't gone off in almost a year and a half, during the Oscars race. A two minute conversation had him throwing on clothes without bothering to dry off and sending off a group text frantically. In the hall way he picked up the only phone that wasn't cordless, and laid the receiver on the table so no calls could get through. Finally, he ran toward his office for his computer.

Dick came pounding up the stairs. He held up his phone, Logan's text _Clean the fan_, populating the screen, and asked, "Dude, what happened?"

"Dick, get on my computer and pull up TMZ," Logan barked, picking up his wallet and digging out the alternate SIM card he kept tucked away in a fold.

While Dick settled into his desk, Logan tore apart his phone and replaced the SIM card, sending the one he'd taken out through the shredder. He moved to stand behind the desk chair while waiting for his cell phone to power back up so he could talk to Veronica.

The headline for the lead story on TMZ confirmed the information learned from the phone call.

LOGAN ECHOLLS BEATS GIRLFRIEND

* * *

**A/N: **As always, this chapter would have been an unfeeling mess without the help of the most amazing beta in the fanfiction 'verse, nevertothethird. Your patience, kindness and handholding has carried me through countless moments of self-doubt and helped me handle the times of chagrin with a laugh. Still giggling over the mini-fic you sent me . And damnit, I am going to earn that t-shirt!

A/N: A couple of native New Yorkers have been feeding me some info about NYC, so thanks to VMreborn for the info about Alice's Tea cups. You gave me so many tips and I'm so grateful, but I defintely wanted to throw in Alice's. I love picturing Laura and Logan there together.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Your reviews were inspiring, as always. They really do a lot to keep me motivated to update every week so _please_ keep them coming. Plus, I love knowing what you think about the story.

**A/N II: **A huge thanks to nevertothethird - your feedback and guidance were invaluable as always. It helps so much to bounce ideas off of someone who loves these characters as much as I do, and who makes me laugh. "Logan's feeling called me and they are feeling a little neglected." I've been giggling over that one for more than a day.

And sorry that you felt dirty after reading all those TMZ articles. I did too. What we'll do for research, right?

**A/N III**: And to FatPatricia515, who let me know The Fratellis just put out a new album this week! I originally wrote that bit in my rough draft more than a month ago, and had no idea this was coming. So, though you're right and we may not be able to thank Logan for this one, I'm going to just say The Secret is real! Put something out in the universe and it comes back to you. But folks, save it for something important, like music.

* * *

Chapter 9

The headline for the lead story on TMZ confirmed the information learned from the phone call.

LOGAN ECHOLLS BEATS GIRLFRIEND

Logan drew in a sharp breath. When the clipping service had called, he had simply acted without taking time to think. He and Veronica had come up with an action plan, and right now it was up to him to see it through. But actually seeing those words in print, he felt like he'd been sucker-punched. His knees turned to liquid and he fell back, his ass resting on the window sill while his eyes stayed fixated on the computer screen.

It was a long moment before he could see past the headline to take in the rest of the article. The accompanying picture had the grainy quality you get from bad lighting and over zooming with a crappy camera. But Logan was still recognizable standing on the street outside of Swells, his arm around the waist of the petite blonde in front of him, her dark cast in sharp contrast to her light blue jacket. Veronica stood with her back against his chest and her head turned up to him, the bruise on her face a large, dark spot over her cheekbone.

He remembered that moment. She had turned her head and said something to him and, when the traffic noise had drowned her out, he had bent his head down so she could speak in his ear. The result was that she was shown only in partial profile with his head blocking all but the far left side of her face, making her unrecognizable.

Dick clicked on the little arrow under the picture, flipping forward to another image. It was a picture from the previous morning, of Logan and Veronica at the dog park. Veronica's back was to the camera, the hood of the same blue jacket covering her hair. Logan was standing in front of her, looking distressed as he held up her elbow and exposed her cast. The third and final picture was of him staring down at her, holding the ends of the leashes that were looped over his neck. The effect, in this context, was menacing.

Logan forced himself to stand so he could lean forward and read the short article:

_The Logan Echolls we all knew and loathed is back! He has stooped to a new low in his quest for "Bad Boy of the Millenium" title. When he was a teenager, he was often seen ranting at fans and press that attempted to talk to his parents and, on one memorable occasion, smashing the camera of a photographer outside the Echolls family home. He paid homeless men to fight so he could take bets on the results, spent weekends drinking and hell-raising in Tijuana, and was arrested for stabbing and killing a biker on the Coronado Bridge, where his mother committed suicide._

_Now, sources say, he's using his girlfriend as a punching bag. _

_Just three nights ago they were spotted outside a New York restaurant, acting lovey-dovey while waiting for a cab. But, from what we've heard, that mark on her cheek bears the imprint of Logan's fist. What kind of guy does that? _

_The kind that didn't even wait until she had healed before getting into another fight with her, in a public park this time. According to a witness, Logan grabbed the girlfriend's arm (whose name was not available at press time) and yelled in her face until she cried. They left the park separately. _

_But what else can you expect from the son of the late Aaron Echolls? Aaron was a notorious cheater, banging anything that wasn't Lynn Echolls. In 2005 he was charged was with murdering one of his then sixteen-year-old son's girlfriends, and accused of trying to kill another. _

_It seems that old saying, "Like Father Like Son" seems to be holding true. _

_At this time we have been unable to reach Logan Echolls for comment._

His eyes kept wandering back to the headline, and that phrase, Like Father Like Son. The words were straight out of his worst nightmare. No matter how angry he'd been at the women in his life, he'd never felt the desire to hurt them physically. But knowing that didn't dispel the fear that someday, that would change. That he could be like his father, and hurt someone that couldn't fight back. That maybe, it was a line you crossed once and were forever on the other side of it.

The phone in his hand rang and he jumped at the interruption. The number was blocked, so he figured it was Veronica calling from a secure line at the office, or a burner phone. Her alternate cell number was already programmed into his phone.

"Logan, what's going on?" Veronica asked.

He could hear the way his voice shook as he spoke, and talked faster to try and cover it. With Dick listening he didn't want to give away how much this was affecting him. "Pull up TMZ. The clipping service called; they said it was posted just a couple of minutes ago."

The sound of her fingers hitting the keyboard let him know she was following instructions and he waited impatiently, his fingers twanging against his thigh. Her expletive indicated she had caught up and was as furious as he was, though her take on it was a little different that he had expected.

"Mother loving, lying bastard, amateur hack. If he'd gotten higher up, he wouldn't have had to wait for a break in pedestrian traffic to get his shot. Instead he was stuck with a picture of your head covering my face."

His bark of sour laughter surprised him as much as it did Dick, who jumped in his seat. Logan ignored him as Dick headed downstairs, probably to check on Laura. Veronica considered herself an expert in surveillance, but it was hardly what they should be focusing on at the moment.

"Seriously, that's what you're getting out of all this?"

"What? No, sorry. I just hate that we got outed by such shoddy work."

"Yeah, well, his shots might be lousy but he still managed to hit the target." Logan knew his voice sounded petulant, but couldn't seem to find any humor in the situation. How many times was he going to have his life ground up into something unrecognizable and then put on display?

When Veronica was quiet for a long time, he started to wonder if they'd lost their connection. Then she cleared her throat, and spoke as if she were just figuring something out.

"Wait, no. You aren't...God I'm an idiot. Logan, listen to me. You don't get to own this. Who cares what the goddamn media says? I told you last night; you are nothing like Aaron. I know you better than anyone. You might have a John Wayne complex," he let out a small laugh at that, "but you're not a violent man. You could never be the guy they're talking about in this article."

"And you know me just as well," she continued. "I'm—, _we're_ going to fix this." Her voice was pure determination with the last statement, and he laughed bitterly at her hubris.

"There's nothing to fix. This is just the beginning. Now that one trashy website has this story, I'm as good as convicted by a jury. The same thing happened when Felix was killed." He turned away from the computer to look out the window. Even if they came out publicly as a couple, if she stood up and defended him, people would just think she was covering for him. He would always be seen as an abuser, and Veronica as a victim.

"Felix wasn't around to set things straight. I am. What do you think the chances are of me letting this go?" It was less a question for him than a challenge to the outside world. He felt a little of the weight lift off his chest at the image of her fighting at his side, no matter how futile. He didn't answer her question though, distracted by the sight of a lone photographer emerging from a shadow across the street. Her voice reminded him he was still holding the phone.

"Is there anything else, or is this just the first of it?" she asked.

"Nothing else, yet. The service is going to keep me posted when anything comes up. They have the new cell number."

"OK. I'll be home in an hour," Veronica assured him, her voice sounding strong and resolute.

"Wait, what? You can't. There's already a photographer across the street, which means more will be coming." They were like fucking cockroaches. If you saw one, that meant you were about to see a hundred.

"Good. I want an audience."

Everything in Logan wanted her to rush to his side. To stand with him in the face of whatever this was going to turn into. But there was more at stake than him having to survive yet another media shit-storm.

"In case you haven't noticed, they don't know who you are. At least, not yet. Don't you have that meet tomorrow?"

It heartened him that she had to take a moment to remember her place in the world; that all her thoughts had been focused on him. "Shit. I forgot-You know what? It doesn't matter anymore. They'll have to figure it out without me."

"You already said they couldn't. You also said someone's life could be at stake. The way things stand now, can you still go through with your plans?"

"Logan, I'm not leaving you alone in this."

He knew how her mind and her heart worked. Whatever she was trying to accomplish would haunt her if she picked him instead of her job. Yet, if she went to that meet and something happened to her, he was the one who would have to live with regret. He chose her, as he always would. His knees still weak, he sunk to the floor again and put all his remaining strength into his voice.

"I've got this. Handle your thing and I'll handle mine. We have a date for whiskey and haggis when this is all over, and you better stick to it."

"Logan-" Veronica started.

"You have yourself a deal," he interrupted. The vague memory of Parker saying something similar ghosted through his mind.

"What?"

"Logan, you have yourself a deal. That's what you are going to say. Now get off the phone. The sooner you finish your job the sooner you can come home to me." The forced casualness in his tone didn't fool either one of them.

He was going to have to do this alone; handle all the accusations, the hate mail, and the media encampment on the doorstep. During the Oscar race the press had been friendly and interested, if a bit dogged. This time, with a scandal in the mix, they would be vicious. Knowing that he would be stuck home while Veronica would be putting herself at risk, he felt like curling himself into a ball and hiding in the closet.

Dick chose that moment to come back upstairs, leaning in the doorway while waiting for Logan to get off the phone. Logan kept his gaze focused on the ceiling, not risking looking at his friend until he got himself a little more in control. He couldn't allow himself to break down while he was on the phone with Veronica.

Which she didn't help when she said, her voice sounding incredibly sad, "I love you, Logan Echolls."

Crap. If she kept that up he might change his mind. So, instead of matching her maudlin tone, he told her, "And while you're working I'm going to be making a list of all the ways you get to prove that to me when this is over. Do some more of that stretching; you're going to need to be bendy for what I have in mind."

Her small laugh and promise was a balm over his frayed nerves. "You _definitely_ have yourself a deal." At the sound of the click he hit the END button and closed his eyes, taking a moment to pull himself together before he stood.

Dick had been silent through this exchange, listening to Logan's side of the conversation. When the call was ended, he somberly asked, "What do you need? Because I'm totally in."

Logan sighed. A serious Dick who didn't even jump on his sexual innuendo to Veronica was almost more than he could handle. "Honestly, I don't know how bad this is going to get. You should probably take Laura home. I'll be fine; this is nothing new for me."

That was partly true. It had been a long time since he'd been on the negative end of the press, but remembered well how they acted when they smelled blood. Dick had been around for a lot of that when they were teens, but wouldn't know how badly the abuse angle was affecting him. Veronica was the only one that knew that particular truth about Aaron.

Dick nodded and sat down at the computer to begin searching out flight reservations. As Logan went down the stairs he heard Dick's phone ring, and by his end of the conversation it was obvious he was talking to Mac. She had been included in the group text message he had sent earlier but, due to the precautionary measures he and Veronica had put into play, Mac would have had no luck getting through to the two of them.

There had always been the possibility of a media blitz. Despite their quiet, unseen life and all their safeguards, they couldn't get away with hiding forever. And once it came out, not only would Veronica not be able to work undercover, their relationship would be subject to public speculation. It hadn't done his parent's marriage any favors.

To give themselves time to handle the media on their own, should this situation happen, they had instructed their family and friends that if Logan or Veronica sent the text CLEAN THE FAN, it meant the shit had hit and to immediately go on alert. To simply say 'no comment' if a reporter asked a question, and to ignore anything they heard on the news. Mac had the special assignment of purging their email accounts and phone records.

Logan and Veronica had purchased an alternate cell phone plan, and carried the SIM cards at all times so they could switch, in case their regular cells were intercepted or tracked. Only the two of them, and the clipping service, had the numbers. They had agreed, if they were apart when it happened, they would use them only for emergencies. Any more frequently and they ran the risk of these phones being tracked as well. It was likely he wouldn't get to speak to her again until she came home.

The sound of the doorbell had him pounding down the remaining flights of stairs. One photographer was already outside his house, and their weird hive mentality meant that every tabloid journalist and photographer now knew where he lived.

At the sound of tires squealing on the street outside, Logan headed over to the living room window and looked down at the street. A white van had double parked and someone was making their way to his door with a video camera hoisted on his shoulder. Logan punched a code into the alarm pad and the house suddenly went dark, all the interior shutters slamming closed around him and blocking out the sunlight. The code also disconnected the doorbell, so he was saved the incessant dinging, but had to resign himself to ignoring the first of many knocks.

* * *

Two hours later Dick and Laura were packed, dressed, and waiting for the town car to arrive to take them to the airport. By now the front stoop and sidewalk were swarming with reporters from every exploitive rag. The two men were doing their best to keep Laura entertained so she wouldn't dwell on why no one was answering the door, but their patience was thin as parchment.

When Dick's phone rang, their balloon-toss game came to an end. Confirming that his car was waiting out front, Dick instructed the driver to meet him at the door, and gave Logan a nod.

Logan crouched in front of Laura and said, "Hey, your dad is going to go outside and talk to the driver for a minute. Are you ready to put on your headphones like he told you?"

Laura had an MP3 player loaded with her favorite music, and Dick didn't want her hearing anything that happened once he opened the door. When Laura nodded her agreement, Logan settled her in his lap and placed her headphones on her, starting the music.

He didn't think he would smile again until this was all over, but had to grin as he heard Dick open the door, drag out his luggage, and address the reporters stalking the stoop. If someone had told him before that Dick could sound threatening, he never would have believed it.

Over the shouts of the media his voice was distinctive. "Shut up!"

He waited until the questions stopped, then warned, "Unless you're blind, you can tell I'm not Logan, assholes. I have my kid in here and we're going to get in that car over there. I not answering any questions and if any one of you gets in our way, your camera is going to be getting a great view of your prostate. Got it?"

The silence that met this announcement was agreement enough. Dick came back in, closed the door, then scooped Laura off Logan's lap. He lifted up one end of the headphones and said, his voice suddenly jovial again, "Ready to play Hide, Midge? Just like we talked about, okay?"

Laura nodded and laid her head on Dick's chest, burrowing her head in and closing her eyes. Logan picked up Dick's coat and placed it over Laura, covering her from head to toe. Locking the door once the duo had made it outside, Logan couldn't resist moving the peephole cover to watch the reports part like the Red Sea as Dick walked down the steps. Though they still shouted questions and waved microphones in his direction, not one of them dared to get in his way. Not a bad feat for the guy labeled, 'Unable To Define Serious' in their yearbook.

* * *

Veronica spent the early morning on lockdown at her office. She had put Junie's picture through every facial recognition program she could access. So far nothing had come back, but she wasn't giving up, not even when the AIFIS search came up empty for the fingerprints.

Jason had already researched Junie's alias, and confirmed it dated back just over five years. He was able to access her lease and establish she lived alone, and had been in her current apartment since 'Junie' had existed. He had found the birth certificate she was using for her current identity, as well as a death certificate for the same name only three days later. Junie's income from her job as a bartender was enough to pay her bills, but not much more. He traced all her phone calls and came up with no leads. She wasn't a member of any social networking sights, had no bank accounts, credit cards, or other assets or debt. Her current identity would be very easy to dump should she choose to disappear.

Logan's phone call pushed all of that to the side. Ten minutes ago Junie and this case were her sole focus, but now… She kept staring at the TMZ article, flipping back and forth between the pictures, reading it over and over again.

After everything they had been through the past few days, the timing of this was especially cruel. He'd spent the last two weeks showing what a caring and tender man he was. Now the world was being told he was the one thing he feared. Her stomach churned with anxiety for him and she felt ashamed that she was still in her office, working.

Wasn't this the moment to prove that he was more important than her job? Wasn't this the time to publicly stand by his side, declare herself his wife, and shoot down every malicious rumor launched his way? Why was she here instead of halfway to the subway station by now? Dammit, he didn't deserve to be alone in this!

But it was Logan that had reminded her where she needed to be right now. And if going through with the meet tomorrow meant that she could save even one woman the fate Susan Jameson had suffered, she couldn't bail. The only choice she had was to go forward and finish her job. With any luck, they would get enough information tomorrow that she could drop the 'Tammy' alias and set about putting their world right side up again.

She grabbed Jason and pulled him for an impromptu meeting in Director David's office. She quickly caught them up on the TMZ break, giving them each a copy of the article she had printed out.

"They haven't identified me yet, but I give them a day, two at the most. Someone is going to figure it out." As she sat in the chair facing him, a part of her was silently begging Director David to put the kibosh on this, so that she didn't have a choice.

"How have you kept it hidden all this time?" Jason asked, looking up from reading the story.

"Small group of trusted people in the know, house, phone and other things under fake business names, pay cash for everything. We got married at sea, out of the country, and there _may_ have been a couple of slight misspellings on our marriage license so it's harder to find. File taxes separately. Plus, Logan just isn't that big of a story—not without a slant like this."

Jason drew his brows together and asked, "So why would your identity even come out?"

She rolled her eyes at his naiveté. "Because my name is linked to his dad's murder investigation. Both our names were brought up repeatedly in the coverage with Lilly Kane. Because some traitorous wench from our high school will probably finger me as the blonde in the picture, whether they're sure it's me or not. It will just take a little time to _prove_ it's me."

Jason pursed his lips in thought. "But the story you gave the women at the shelter matches your and Logan's timeline and story, right?"

"Yeah, that's why I think we can still pull this off." she said.

"So if Junie, or the guy she is working with, figure out you're the woman in these photos, you just tell them you used an alias because of Logan's fame," Jason confirmed, shrugging like it was an easy answer.

"And as long we do a preemptive strike, even if they out you, this actually works in our favor," Director David said, finally looking up from the page she'd given him.

Veronica was confused at that. "What preemptive strike?"

"We make it look like your employment was terminated with us several years ago, so if they get this far it still matches your story." David leaned back in his chair and spoke with a calm, measured tone.

"And how does this work in our favor?" Veronica asked. She couldn't see how this damn thing could help their case in any way.

David leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk as he spoke to her. "Mars, look at this with the eyes of an outsider. With everything else in Logan's past—the fighting, the murder charge- the abuser story is very believable."

Both Director David's and Jason's eyes were on her as she took that in. That David was right didn't make it any easier to accept. Anger tightened her jaw and she met both their stares with a nod. Now, more than ever, she was determined to let the world know what kind of man Logan was. Starting with these two men.

"OK," Veronica agreed. "I'll stay here tonight and still meet up with Junie tomorrow. But let's get something straight. When I read this TMZ thing, I wanted to go home. It was Logan who insisted I stay. He doesn't know the particulars of the case, but he knows I'm the only one that can go to that meet tomorrow. He thought it was more important I see this through, rather than help him."

Jason nodded slightly, but Director David's only response was to ask Jason to leave the room.

Once alone, David came and sat in the chair next to her, instead of behind his desk. The behavior was uncharacteristic, but she did her damnedest to maintain a mask of indifference. She was still angry at him for his comment about Logan, even if he hadn't said it with any malice.

"Mars, I know how hard this must be for you, and I want to make sure your head is here."

"I know my job, sir. I'm here." Her head she could give them. Her heart, well that was somewhere else for the moment.

"Mmmm, hmmm." The two, non-word sounds were laced with skepticism as he leaned back and studied her for a long moment. "And you're stuck here until the meet tomorrow. That's a lot of time to kill. Unfortunately I have a lot going on in addition to your case, so I won't be able to keep a close eye on you."

That was weird_. _"Not really necessary. I know what I have to do."

"I know you do. You are completely by the book." That was even weirder. They'd had enough almost-disciplinary conversations that he knew that was the opposite of true_._

"A lot of agents" he continued, "were they in your shoes, would probably take advantage of the departments resources to see if they could get any information to help Logan's situation."

The thought had occurred to her. She had a couple of ideas of where to start digging, but hadn't yet decided if she was going to take the risk of doing it from work.

David went on, apparently not looking for a response from her. "You know, not enough to break the law or invite a review, but just to dig a bit and see what they could come up with. I'm glad you wouldn't, because I couldn't protect you if you did something like that, and I've just got too much going on to spend the day looking over your shoulder."

She'd always respected this man, but now she freakin' loved him. Biting the inside of lower lip to hold back a smile, she respectfully nodded her head. "I won't disappoint you, sir."

"Good. Then there are a couple of other things to discuss. I approved your vacation request. I think it's a good idea; you are overdue for a break."

"Thank you, sir."

"It's safe to say that after this, you won't be working undercover. While you're off, I'd like you to start thinking about where you see your career going next."

For the moment her vision was short sighted. She wanted to finish this case and get Logan out of the media mess. The rest they could figure out together.

"I'm not really thinking that far ahead yet."

"Of course not. I just wanted to reassure you. With your reputation and skills you have a lot of options that I'd be willing to discuss, whenever you're ready."

"Thank you, sir." In the span of five minutes he'd given her carte blanch to use FBI resources for her personal use, and told her he would find another place for her. She gave him a small smile of appreciation before getting up.

Headed for the door, she was stopped by his voice. When she turned around, the look of concern and sympathy he gave her was new, and unnerving; he was usually so officious.

"Veronica, when your involvement in this case has ended, I'll issue a formal statement to the press confirming how you were injured. We are with you in this, and we take care of our own."

No longer able to maintain the professional façade, she took the three steps to reach him, gave him a hug and whispered, "Thank you," before slipping out the door.

Everything settled, her primary focus was Junie and their meet tomorrow, but she had a lot of time to use to her advantage until then. She knew what it took for Logan to insist she stay and finish the case, and she was going to do her damnedest to stop him being vilified by the press.

* * *

At eleven o'clock, Logan was in the den, futilely distracting himself with the television. When Hat and Mc started barking and took off for the kitchen at a run, he followed close behind, irrationally hoping that it was Veronica.

Finding Charlie and Henry greeting the dogs, he slumped onto a barstool.

"How bad is it out there?" he asked. He hadn't looked out the window in hours, since Dick and Laura had left at nine.

Henry came over and gathered him into a hug; the kind of hug you would give a small child, pulling his head to rest on her breast while she stroked his hair. It was almost embarrassing, how comforted he felt at the gesture. When she pulled back she gave him a kiss on the forehead, and then sat on the barstool facing him.

"There are many, and they are here for the duration. Where's Veronica?"

"Work. She needs time to finish up what she's doing before we address this fuckapalooza. At least a couple of days, maybe more. They don't know who she is…yet," Logan finished ominously.

He started playing with a pair of ceramic apes that doubled as salt-and-pepper shakers. Veronica had bought them a couple of years ago, as a joke stocking stuffer for him. The magnets in their mouths meant when you moved them close to each other, they would pull together as if kissing. He tested how close they had to be before the magnets pulled them the rest of the way, causing a small clicking sound.

"Then they aren't bothering her. What do you need?" Charlie asked.

Logan shrugged. "Water balloons? A super soaker? Grenades? Let's get Macaulay Culkin on the phone. Maybe he'll have a few ideas." _Click_, kiss. He pulled them apart, marginally more than the last time. _Click._

"Well, as long as you're sitting here being constructive," Henry replied sarcastically, moving the shakers out of his reach. _Click_. "Actually, why are you sitting here, Logan?"

"Because I'm under siege," he snapped. Seriously, what was the point of their coming over here if they were just going to ask stupid questions? Hadn't they just walked through the reporter blockade to get into the house?

She looked critically at his unkempt appearance. After the clipping service call he hadn't bothered to run a brush through his hair or shave, and was still wearing the sloppy track pants and bleach-marked shirt he'd grabbed when he got dressed in a hurry.

When her eyes slanted at the mess on the usually pristine counters, he rolled his. So he, Dick, and Laura had made a messy breakfast of oatmeal, sliced fruit, and toast, and he hadn't felt like cleaning up. Big deal.

"No. You're feeling sorry for yourself. It's whiny, self-indulgent, and boring, and you are not boring," she accused.

Processing her dig, Logan tried not to smile, but felt the corners of his mouth turn up anyway. Clearly the point of their coming over was so she could call him on his crap, like a true friend.

"I think there was a compliment buried in there somewhere, Hen."

"Don't read too much into it, _Lo_. What would you normally be doing today?" she asked.

He'd been here before, though it had been a long time. When he was a teen he had self-soothed with a bottle of Jack and a surfboard. Knowing he needed to stay sober and available in case Veronica needed him, this time he'd shut himself in and wallowed. Pathetic. Just because they were playing that damn Tinseltown Diaries episode back-to-back didn't mean he had to watch it. Again.

"Walk the dogs," he answered, "work on the screenplay, buy stuff for dinner."

When she cocked an eyebrow at Logan in challenge, Charlie laughed and warned, "I know that look. Better do what she wants, man. You're not smart enough to win if you start arguing with her."

Logan had been knocked down enough in life to know that your real friends are the ones who stand by you when things went to hell. Charlie and Henry had braved the mob outside to make sure he was okay, and give him a much-needed kick in the ass. But their showing up meant so much more. Charlie was a well-known author and Henry had a great reputation as a lawyer. In coming to his house, they had also taken a public stand of support for him. Realizing that, he felt better than he had had in hours, since he'd talked to Veronica.

Feeling a surge of adrenaline, Logan got up and grabbed the leashes, causing Hat and Mc to prance and turn around in circles. He leaned forward until he was only a couple inches away from Henry's face, smirked, and said, "You're a hell of a woman, Henry. I have half a mind to steal you away from that guy you're engaged to."

"Like that's ever going to be funny. Asshole," Charlie muttered, as Henry and Logan cracked up.

Throwing his friend a grin and an apology, he stuffed his pockets with dog treats, then leashed up the dogs and grabbed his sunglasses, phone, wallet and keys. Letting Charlie and Henry out ahead of him, he coded the alarm and followed the dogs out.

Realizing their target had emerged from his fortress of solitude, the reporters let Charlie and Henry pass by. They crowded in and stuffed microphones in Logan's face, shouting questions.

"How many other abusive relationships have you been in?"

"What were you fighting about at the park?"

"Where is your girlfriend, Logan?"

He ignored the questions to focus on Henry, who was now at the edge of the crowd giving him a thumbs-up and mouthing "You got this." Charlie gave him a head nod of encouragement before they moved up the street. Their support bolstering him, he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.

He continued to act as though he hadn't heard the voices of those yelling around him. Saying 'no comment' or denying the allegations would be like chumming the waters. Until Veronica came home safely he couldn't say anything that would give her identity away. He worried that if he tried to defend himself, something would slip.

Instead, he leaned forward and gave the dogs a command Veronica had taught them. He'd never had to use it before, but was relieved that she had practiced it with them at regular intervals.

"Chopper," Logan half whispered. He had to work at keeping a straight face as his sweet pups became scary ass hellhounds. They barked, snarled and growled at the tightly packed group of legs around them, effectively clearing a path for him to follow.

Once they had passed the horde and gained a few yards of distance, he ordered, "Chill," and gave them the biscuits he'd secreted in his pockets. They calmed and he could swear they were both grinning, proud of their performance. Each got a pat and 'Good Boy', and Logan got to resume living his life, even if he did have to walk the streets like the Pied Piper of tabloid journalists.

* * *

**Hatfield and McCoy:** Hey, does anybody want to see the dog I used to base Hatfield and McCoy on? Just google: Teddy Adopted Dog Somerset. There are three pictures of this adorable dog, both before and after a hair cut.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Your reviews were all so positive and encouraging from the last chapter. I can't thank you enough! And as long as you are writing a review (_pleasseee)_ I was trying to think who would best play Adam in the movie version of this fic (one can dream, right?). So, tell me, who plays Adam in your head?**

**A/N: A brontosaurus sized thank you to nevertothethird. Before she beta'd this chapter it was something entirely different and, I'll freely admit, redundant. She gave me the kick to the head I needed to rethink it into something I'm thrilled with. You guys have no idea how lucky you are that she's involved.**

**A/N: Finally, a thank you to ShanghaiLily for the info about NY ports. Any discrepancies with actual NY/Jersey geography are all mine.**

* * *

Chapter 10

Veronica spent the night on the couch in the break room, trying to will herself to sleep. She and Logan had stuck to their plan and hadn't spoken since their initial phone call. She had reached for the phone a dozen times throughout the day, but used work as a means to distract herself. However, she didn't have those distractions at night. All she could think about was how much she needed to hear his voice, and those things they whisper to each other in the dark. Things that made it easier to get through a long night. There were also things that needed to be said with a reassuring touch from him. Things she didn't want a hacker listening to.

After her fifth trip to get a drink and go to the bathroom, utilizing the bedtime distraction techniques of a small child, she finally admitted there was no chance she was getting any sleep. Four a.m. being the unofficial line between the night-before and the morning-of, she got up and showered.

At six, Adam found her plugged into her computer and making notes on a legal pad. As she stood from her chair he swooped in and gave her a much needed hug.

"Rover, how are you doing?"

"Hanging in there. Have you been to see Logan?" Her heart fell a bit when he shook his head.

"I was in Atlantic City when I got his text. I had to stay until we tied things up, but now I'm all yours. I called Trent and he told me what happened, so I came straight here."

They both sat, leaning forward and facing each other as they talked. She was the only one who knew what kind of a father Aaron had really been, so she couldn't convey how this particular story line would be affecting Logan. But his being alone worried her more than anything else.

"I've been catching some information online. Dick left yesterday morning, and I think Charlie and Henry only went by for a little while. Do you know if anyone else has gone to see Logan? I hate the idea of him sitting at home, by himself."

"Trent has Jack, so can't go near your place. Henry had court this morning, and Charlie had to leave for that book signing trip. They said Logan was a little morose yesterday, but they talked him out of the house."

She chuckled at that. "Have you seen the video?"

Adam laughed with her. All that time training them had clearly paid off. "Trent sent me the link. Looks like you found a way to make your boy smile without even being there."

The comment made her own smile disappear. "I wanted to be, but Logan insisted I see this through. I just want to get home to him."

"So, how do we make that happen?" She spent a moment filling him on their case status before he turned the conversation back to her personal problem.

"I can't believe no one has figured out who you are yet. How is that possible? You have an accountant, housekeepers, a guy who walks your dogs and delivers their food—"

"All of whom signed ironclad non-disclosure agreements that Henry drew up. They'd risk losing everything if they breathed a word to the press, or told anyone they work for us."

It had come in handy, having a trusted friend for a lawyer. Henry was largely to thank for keeping her and Logan's relationship hidden all this time. Among other things, it had been her idea to misspell the names on the marriage license and then file the forms to alter it later.

"And what if the press figures out who you are? 'Cause I don't see you getting away with this for long." Adam's brow was furrowed. She recognized the look; he was trying to think through any holes in their strategy tomake sure she was covered.

"Even then, we should be fine. As long as they don't figure out I'm a fed. We're doing our best to hide that."

"Yeah, I tried to call you but your extension was disconnected, and I was informed you are not now nor, have ever been an employee here. Well played. What can I do to help?"

So far she and Jason had worked well together, but it wasn't the same as having Adam at her side. There was no one she trusted more. But, if he couldn't be with her, he could at least be somewhere that eased her mind.

"Logan knows that, for this case, today is a big day. He'll be freaking out. Can you make sure he's not alone?" She bit her lip while she waited for his answer.

Adam's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You told him about the meet?" He knew about Logan and Veronica's former 'don't ask, don't tell' policy when it came to her job.

"Just enough to really worry him. He asked me to. Long story. Will you go, and be with him?" She waited anxiously for his answer. Adam had barely been in town the last couple of weeks, and she knew he would be dying to go home. But she really needed this favor.

Like the friend he was, he agreed without any hesitation. "Yeah, of course I will. But I can't promise to enjoy it. He has no sense of humor where your safety is concerned. Remember that time we were practicing self-defense moves and I gave you that shiner? I thought he was going to deck me when I called you Petey the Dog."

The shared laugh helped ease Veronica's mind. With Adam making sure Logan was taken care of, she could better focus on her task for the day. She explained about the security measures they had put in place, and wrote down the necessary phone numbers. Before he could get up to leave, she leaned back in her chair and put her boot-clad feet in his lap. "And as always—"

He stood, using her feet to swivel her around in her chair before laying them so they rested on her desk. "Yes, as always. I don't need the reminder. Any messages to pass on?"

Veronica thought about what message to offer that would both reassure Logan as well as give him a time frame of when to expect her home. Something that also wouldn't sound weird coming out of Adam's mouth.

"Tell him I'm going to expect a hell of a dinner when I get home."

* * *

Logan followed Henry's advice and stuck to his normal routine as much as possible. He got a vindictive thrill from rousing the reporters at five in the morning, and watching them try to keep up with him and the dogs as they ran. His iPod drowned out their questions, and Hat and Mc kept them at a distance so he was able to ignore them. Until they got to the dog park, anyway. Then the bastards started to close in, like zombies around the prison fence in The Walking Dead.

A security detail had been stationed at the house since yesterday, and a couple of bodyguards were tailing him, but there was only so much they could do. Knowing he made their jobs easier by staying home, he leashed up the boys and headed back. The guards hadn't been his idea, but it was a good one. The dogs would only keep the reporters away for so long. And if some lunatic decided the world would be a better place without his murdering, girl-friend-beating ass in it, he really had no defense. Leave it to Veronica to think of that.

_It was late afternoon when Logan got a call on his cell phone. He'd done his best to keep busy, and had actually gotten a lot of work done on the screenplay he'd ignored the past couple of days. Usually he let the phone go to voicemail when he was working, but this time he dove for it like a lifeline._

"_Hello?"_

"_Logan Echolls?" a man's deep voice asked._

_Shit. Not Veronica and not the clipping service. That left a good chance it was a reporter. "I've heard of him. Can I help you with something?"_

"_I'm Jordan Green with Kerberos Security. We've secured the main and the kitchen entrances to your house. We'd like to come in to do a sweep, and see what we have to do to fortify the back. Is this a good time?"_

"_Fuck off." There was no end to the tricks reporters would try to get access to a house, and he wasn't in the mood to play their games. He was doubly pissed that this meant they had his new cell number._

"_I was told you would say that. And that when you did, I was supposed to say 'Stop being a Jackass'. Sorry, sir, that's a direct quote." _

_Logan felt a grin break out across his face. Not a reporter. "And exactly who hired you?"_

"_The name I have is Snookums McSugarpuss."_

_With a laugh Logan said, "I'll be down in a minute."_

_He opened the door to let in an incredibly large black man. The guy stood close to seven feet tall, and had the shoulder breadth to rival the axel width of a 57 Chevy. He was well over three hundred pounds of bulging muscles, had close cropped hair, and appeared to be in his early forties. He was flanked by two other men, identical twins with red hair and green eyes, impressively large in their own right. But next to Jordan Green, they looked diminutive. With an inward smirk, realizing how small he was next to the three of them, Logan understood how Veronica must feel all the time. _

"_Bryce and Terrance Vasenden," Jordan said, introducing the other two men. "I'm running the security detail, and they'll be acting as body guards. We have two additional men outside to guard the entrances, and would like to put one in the back garden."_

_They swept the place for any bugs or recording devices, and Logan gave them permission to enter as needed for security or personal reasons. He signed off on the approved visitor list, then went back to work. It felt good knowing he had a few guys out there that were on his side, courtesy of his brilliant wife._

Once home, he spent the next three hours making a list of ideas for their trip to Scotland. Until he was able to consult with Mac, he didn't dare go online to do any real research but the exercise in optimism was needed to reassure himself she would come home safely.

The clipping service had only contacted him once since yesterday morning. He had spent several minutes rewatching the YouTube video of his dogs causing the reporters to scatter, as hilarious in replay as it had been in person. Freezing a frame of the video and saving it as his desktop background cheered him considerably as he worked.

By nine, his attempts to distract himself were no longer working, and he was on the edge of crazy when he looked up to see Adam lolling in his doorway, watching him with a smirk. "Guard dogs and armed sentinels while you play shut in? I knew there was an inner Howard Hughes in you."

Adam appearance gave him his second laugh of the day. Sporting a porn 'stache and sideburns, Members Only Jacket that was three inches short in the sleeves, Aviator glasses, and a trucker hat, the man looked like he'd just walked off a bad eighties movie.

"Nice look, Fletch."

"Short notice. The thrift shop I stopped at apparently caters to pygmies. Plus I need something I can ditch in a garbage can when I leave here. You really don't want them figuring out I'm a fed. How would that play in the news?"

"Actually, that gives me an idea. Arrest me and take me to your office. At least then I won't have to sit here in the dark." Logan had started to suggest the idea as a joke, but now saw the benefits in it.

"Dark is right. What's with all the shutters being closed? Are you following _all_ the rules in the manic depressive's handbook?" Adam turned to go down the stairs, motioning for Logan to follow.

"How about we knock off the witty banter and you tell me what's going on with Veronica, Adam? I don't even know what time this goddamn meet is supposed to happen." He'd been kicking himself for not asking more questions about today; all the unknowns had been circling his mind since getting up. To say waking up would imply that he had slept, and that hadn't happened.

Adam turned back to look at him as they worked their way down the house. "High noon, Marshall."

They had reached the living room and Logan grabbed Adam's arm, maybe a little too hard. "When you say that, it sounds like she's going to be some kind of standoff."

Adam turned to look at him, pointedly cutting his eyes to the hand still clutching his arm. Logan took the hint and let go, shoving his hands in his pockets and shrugging. "Sorry."

"Ok, here's the deal." Adam squared his feet and crossed his arms, lifting an eyebrow as he laid out his terms. "She sent me here to babysit you, but I'm not going to put up with any of your overwrought crap. Either we find a way to make you less crazy, or we get you so drunk you pass out. What's it going to be?"

The idea of going oblivious for several hours was seriously tempting, but not an option. "The only thing that really mellows me out is the ocean, but I can't take a phone in the water. And I'm not drinking anything until she's home safe."

"Fine, then we'll stick with my plan."

"Which is?" It was a relief to feel curious, actually, to feel anything other than pissed off, anxious, or beaten up—his entire emotional range for the past twenty-seven hours.

"The ocean." As Logan opened his mouth to protest, Adam held up a hand. "Jerry said we can use his boat. We'll stay close enough to have cell service, but far enough out to keep the paps off your back."

The idea of being on the water, even if he couldn't be _in_ it, was seriously tempting. He loved their house, but being stuck in it was making it harder to stay sane. With a grin he asked, "And I'm assuming you've figured out the logistics of getting me from here to there?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "Do you think you're dealing with an amateur here? Everything is set up. We'll go, have a good time, and come home sunburnt. We might even catch something."

"We're fishing?"

"Right, well, Veronica said to tell you she wants a hell of a dinner when she gets home. I say we throw her a fresh bass and a lemon and call it good."

Logan processed her message. On the surface it wasn't much, but he got the underlying meaning it. It's just another day for her, right? He held out his fist for Adam to bump and said, "Let's do it."

Adam gave the proffered fist a disdainful look. "Yeah, I draw the line there. Put that away or I'm going to start charging for babysitting you."

As Adam headed down the next flight of stairs toward the kitchen, Logan followed him, holding out the fist. "Come on, dude. You have to. Two guys spending the day fishing? Fist bumps and high fives are fucking mandatory. What are you, gay?"

Veronica had given Jordan Green's number to Adam, and they planned the escape beautifully. Unable to entirely get rid of the press, the security guards made sure they kept the streets and house entrances clear. That made it easy for Logan, Adam, and the Vasenden twins to run from the house and hop into a car just as it pulled up.

Logan watched behind them as the press scrambled to follow, only to be stymied by cars belonging to Kerberos Security blocking them at each end. After several minutes they switched cars, the four of them loading into a dark grey Ford Explorer and heading to the marina.

They made it to Jerry's boat without incident, loading a cooler of sodas, water and deli sandwiches that Adam had stashed in the back of the SUV. The burly twins stayed behind, promising to rendezvous back at the marina at five.

The adventure, plus the smell of salt air and the spray in his face, put Logan in a strangely giddy mood. He laughed as they headed out to sea, Adam in the driver's seat of Jerry's old Wellcraft.

* * *

Ten minutes before she was due to leave for her meet with Junie, Veronica was killing time at her computer. Therefore, she was online when a new story about Logan came up.

The article chronicled a year-long, abusive relationship between Logan and Melissa Wells, ended more than five years ago when he supposedly beat her so badly that she ended up in the hospital. The accompanying pictures showed Logan smiling down at a tall, thin brunette in his arms, and the same woman was shown in a hospital gown, her face one large bruise, her arm broken, and several lacerations on her left cheek.

Jason walked in while she was still reading the story, and was her one man audience to the colorful speech that came spewing out of her mouth. "I hope that wasn't aimed at me," he said.

"No. It was for the slimy, opportunistic hag that thinks she can use _my_ husband to put herself in the limelight." Veronica couldn't remember the last time she had been this angry, and didn't miss that it came across in her voice.

Jason read the article over her shoulder, studying the pictures at length. He wisely didn't comment on the story, and instead reminded her, "V, I know this is a bad time, but we have to go."

The job. She had to remember the job. Revenge against Melissa Wells had to wait, but she would find a way to bury this liar. Thinking of the details Logan had shared about their breakup, the way the woman had lied and plotted to create a child to blackmail him with, she grew even angrier. She wasn't just going to bury the bitch, she was going to eviscerate her.

Jason broke into her thoughts with a question that did nothing to calm her down. "Has it occurred to you that she actually did you favor?"

It was amazing how much work was involved with just breathing. Taking slow, measured breaths of precisely three seconds each, Veronica said, "You're going to have to explain that real slow, and I suggest you're near an exit while you do."

It shouldn't have been, but it was gratifying to see his eyes widen slightly in a telltale sign of fear at her tone. "I just meant that tabloid journalists get bored easily. With this woman to keep them interested, maybe they'll be too busy to work on figuring out who you are."

Veronica pondered that line of logic. Today of all days, it was good if she wasn't the focus of the story. But she had no gratitude to spare for the Dead Woman Walking. She stood and grabbed her jacket, this time a non-descript black pea coat. "Let's go."

Jason drove, dropping her a couple of blocks from the park. He was going to stay with the car, listening to the transaction from the wire she was wearing. A couple of other agents were in another car a block away. Should she and Junie leave the park, Jason would follow on foot or in the car, as appropriate. The tracker hidden in her necklace would help him keep tabs on her.

Their plan was that she would meet Junie's 'fairy godfather' and rendezvous with Jason in an hour and a half. A delay, or if she used the code word 'summer', would mean there was a problem and it would be up to him to resolve it.

She reached the playground before Junie, so stood toying with her necklace and watching the children as they played. School was in session so only the youngest kids were there, laughing, toddling and crying as their parents, grandparents or nannies looked on. The beautiful spring weather and normalcy of the scene belied the purpose of her day, so she turned her back on the children to scan the walkways.

Junie arrived fifteen minutes late, apparently a habit for her. Standing a few hundred yards away, Veronica watched as the woman tapped her foot and impatiently checked her watch. After five minutes, when no one else approached her and she turned to go, Veronica walked forward and got her attention. Junie's eyes raised in surprise as she took in the light brown hair, plastic, purple-rimmed glasses, and white tube sock strategically cut to cover the black cast.

"You decided you needed a makeover?"

Veronica had worried that Junie would catch the story, but apparently lady luck was on her payroll today. If Junie called off the meet, their investigation would become much more complicated and drawn out, so Veronica gave an embarrassed smile and made herself look guilty.

"He has some friends that live out this way. I didn't want to take a chance on one of them recognizing me."

"So, you still want to do this?" Junie was eyeing her curiously, her eyes returning to the brown hair over and over.

Veronica nodded and glanced down at her shoes before fixing Junie with a determined look. "I'm here aren't I?"

"That's a good first step. Do you have your cell phone with you?"

She'd left her wallet, phone, gun and badge with Jason. She didn't want anything to blow her cover. "No. I 'forgot' it at home. He uses the GPS to check up on me when I don't answer."

"Good thinking. Let's go." As they walked, Veronica kept Junie busy, asking questions about other women she had helped. Though scant on details, Junie kept reassuring her the other women were living safe lives, and were doing well. Veronica walked a fine line between excited and nervous, maintaining the illusion that she would need a little convincing to go along with this plan. They finally ended up at a large office building less than a mile from the harbor.

The place was low rent; cheap carpet, hollow doors, and paint that needed to be touched up. Based on the inconsistency of the layout, it appeared it was once a building of large, open floors that had been piecemealed into individual offices as the need arose. It was a maze of hallways and, judging by the lack of lettering on the doors, was only about thirty percent occupied. Two flights of stairs and three hallways after they entered the building, Junie opened an unlabeled door, led Veronica through a vacant reception area, and into a sparsely furnished office. There was only a banged-up oak desk, burnt-orange, swivel executive chair, and two decrepit folding chairs for visitors.

Junie ordered "Wait here," leaving Veronica alone while she went through a side door.

As tempting as it was to take advantage of her solitude to search the desk, Veronica forced herself to pace the room instead, as if she were nervous. The surveillance camera in a black orb in the corner of the ceiling was the first thing to draw her eye, so she knew someone was watching. And possibly listening. When no one had showed up after two minutes, she sat herself in one of the chairs and pointedly checked her watch, tapping her foot on the floor.

* * *

Logan got a call from the clipping service just before eleven. The Melissa fabrication was currently on only one website, but he knew it would spread rapidly. This abuse story was about to gain some serious momentum. Handing his phone to Adam so he could read the article, Logan turned to watch the ocean and give himself a chance to process this latest fuckery.

His ending with Melissa had been brutal, but this still took him by surprise. Had she really hated him so much to come after him five years later? Especially with a total lie?

It only took a minute for the logical side of his brain to catch up. This wasn't about hatred, it was about opportunity. She was a wannabe starlet. She'd tried acting to make a name for herself and, when that didn't work out, she'd glommed onto him. In her eyes, this wouldn't be personal.

Looking out at the large expanse of sea and sky, his problems seemed very small; one of the reasons he loved the ocean. On land, he'd often received a lot of attention—good and bad. But out here, he was completely inconsequential. Nothing that happened to him affected the tides or marine life in any way. Which meant seventy percent of the earth couldn't care less about TMZ and their 'sources'. Add in the percentage of the barren lands, cultures where no one had even heard the name Echolls, and you were dealing with a very small number of people.

"Ok, now I'm pissed," Adam said, handing the phone back to him.

"_You're_ pissed? I didn't see your name in that fabrication." Logan hit the buttons to clear the screen, not wanting to see that damn picture with his arm around her.

Adam raised his eyebrows and gave a knowing smirk. "I'm pissed because I wasn't there when Veronica read that."

Logan let out an exasperated sigh. He knew what a kick Adam got out of seeing her riled up. Looking back out to watch the waves, he said, "I think Veronica has bigger problems today." Less than an hour. His gut clenched painfully and he took a deep breath to try and relax it.

"Will you stop blowing this out of proportion? I've seen her handle some pretty sticky situations in the seven years we've worked together. She's got this." Adam started unloading Jerry's fishing gear, handing a pole to Logan to prep.

Logan took the pole and attached a lure. "Ok, to belabor a fishing analogy, you've baited my hook and I'm biting. What kind of sticky situations?"

Adam ignored him for a moment, putting his arm back to cast before securing the reel in a bracket that was screwed into the floor of the boat. "Are you sure you want to do this? You can't unhear things you don't like."

That deserved a moment of thought. He'd hidden from this for years. Was he really ready to know? He realized he was. Maybe, if he knew what she'd done, it would be easier to accept the things she was going to do, today and in the future. "Lay it on me."

"Ok, I'll tell you a couple of stories, but some you'll have to ask her about yourself."

"Like what?"

"Like the car chase and the truck full of olive oil. That was," Adam chuckled and shook his head, "awesome. She's a wily one."

The possible scenarios went through Logan's head, and he shook it to stay focused, casting his own line and watching where it landed. "What else?"

"There was that time she was working undercover at a strip club." That image had Logan instantly seeing red. He turned his head to look at Adam and demand more answers, only to have his picture taken with the phone Adam had at the ready. The guy was having a hard time holding it steady because he was shaking with laughter.

"Gotcha. She was working as a bartender, you possessive freak. Relax."

"Asshole." Logan wasn't proud of the relief he felt knowing she hadn't been taking off her clothes. Toting a badge and gun, and going undercover to catch dangerous criminals was somehow easier to take. Ok, maybe that deserved some pondering later.

"She was handpicked by the boss to recruit underage girls for stripping and private parties. The guy liked to break them in young. She had to pretend to go along with it so she could nail him. Sticky."

"What happened?"

"No way. These are just the teasers. I told you that you would have to ask her." Judging by the smirk on his face, Adam was enjoying this a little too much. But oddly, Logan was too; these stories all had happy endings.

"You got more?"

"Only about a thousand. There was that time in Brooklyn when our cover was blown and we got separated. I was dealing with my own problems when I saw her running up the stairs with three armed guys chasing her. How she got out of that..." The grin Adam shot his way said a lot.

Logan had seen her take down Dick, and that guy in Oregon, but three armed men? He was starting to think he might be married to Jane Smith. "Enough previews. Give me a feature. I want details."

Closing his eyes for a moment to think, Adam then started laughing. "Jamestown. Five years ago. We were investigating this guy who'd been accused of heinous acts against kids three times, but never convicted. So Veronica gets it in her head to…"

* * *

Veronica opened her eyes, or thought she had. Putting her hands up to her face, she felt her eyelashes brush against her fingers as she blinked. Yep, eyes were open. Either she was blind, or the place had absolutely no light.

She was lying on her back, and found the floor was made of cold steel. Sitting up was an effort, and she gasped in pain. But this time it was coming from the back of her head, rather than her ribs. She reached up a hand and felt a large bump at the base of her skull, but no cuts or blood. Taking a big breath of air to steady herself before she tried to stand, she realized the room was laden with the stench of body odor and human waste. Her empty stomach roiled in protest and she swallowed, trying to squelch the gagging sounds that came unbidden.

"So you're finally awake, huh?" The voice surprised her, coming out of the darkness, and she instinctively jumped to her feet in a fighter's stance. The instant vertigo this caused made her wonder if she had a concussion.

When no attack followed, she calmed enough to warily say, "I think we'll go with conscious, rather than awake, given the circumstances. Where are you?" Veronica stood still, waiting to pinpoint the location of the voice.

"Against the wall, sitting on the ground." The voice was feminine, and echoed, giving an idea of the space they were occupying.

She turned and faced the location, being careful to only place her feet where she was sure there was solid ground. So far it felt like nothing else was in the space, but it was the last place she wanted to take a header. "Can you fill me in on where I am?"

"A metal room, rectangle, about twenty-two steps by ten steps. Nothing in here but us and a slop bucket. The door is large; they've opened it occasionally but, the light is so bright and it's for such a short time my eyes can't adjust to see anything." Veronica gauged the calmness in the other woman's voice and wondered at it. She, herself, was feeling anything but calm.

All the things she didn't know began to tally in her brain. What had happened to her team? How long she had been unconscious? How far had she been moved? How much time did she have until her captors came back for her? Was she going to be able to save herself, as well as this other woman? If this didn't have a good ending, how were Logan and her dad going to handle that? She tried to push all the questions, especially the last, to the back of her mind so she could focus on logistics.

"How long have we been here?"

"You, a few hours, as near as I can tell. Me, eight meals, so I'm guessing three or four days. I'm Anne, by the way."

Since the jig was definitely up, there was no reason to hold onto her cover name any longer. "Veronica. Anne, is there any water?"

Anne directed her to where she was sitting and placed a bottle of water in her hand. She explained whoever was holding them captive periodically brought food and water bottles, but never said a word. As Veronica pondered the situation, she reached up to feel her tracker necklace for reassurance; though if she'd been unconscious for hours with no rescue, that was even more worrisome. But, upon feeling the bareness of her neck, she felt a shiver of fear move up her back.

"Shit! They took my necklace!" She felt under her shirt and grimaced when she realized she he wire she'd been wearing was also gone.

"And my watch, and my rings, and even my eyebrow piercing," Anne responded. "It was all junk; I don't know why they wanted it."

The obvious answer, which Veronica bit back, was that jewelry could be used to identify the body. She started to take deep, measured breaths in an attempt to calm herself. Whatever was happening, it was all beyond her control at the moment. She would do what she could at her end, but then would have to put her faith in Jason, Adam, and the other agents to get her out of this, or wait for an opportunity to escape.

* * *

Catching the soda that was lobbed at him, Logan watched as Adam grabbing himself one and leaned back, his feet coming up to rest on the railing. He had been telling his stories for almost two hours and hadn't yet hit the bottom of the well. Some had been scary, but most just showed what a well matched team Adam and Veronica were. They both coupled their dogged pursuit of justice with a sense of humor.

Logan couldn't remember when he'd laughed so hard, and promised himself he would write this all down later. Maybe he would make his own version of 'the notebook' to read to Veronica when she was old and frail.

"So," Adam said, starting another tale, "a couple of years ago we had to work with another agent, posing like we were in a polygamist marriage. The three of us had to live together and everything. Every time we went out in public, the other agent took advantage of our cover to get handsy."

Though Logan tried not to smile, he couldn't help it when his lips started to twitch. Finally he gave into it and asked, "A gay man with two wives? That actually appeals to my sense of absurdity."

"No, you sexist pig. Not two wives." This time it was Adam's turn to smile while he waited the minute it took for Logan to catch up. "Yeah, so the guy—let's call him Larry-hangs on her for three days, knowing she has to smile and go along with it."

"And the point to this story is that you're going to introduce me to this Larry once everything is settled?"

"No. The point is, I haven't yet seen her in a situation she couldn't handle. Even with her own crew. Do you want to hear the rest of this?"

Logan leaned back and put his feet on the railing, mimicking Adam's relaxed pose. The sun was shining off the water in a way that made him squint, and he breathed in a lungful of salty air. Whether Adam's goal with this story was to entertain or irritate him, he still wanted to know what had happened. Waving his hand imperiously to indicate Adam should continue, Logan concentrated on the fishing line in front of him.

Taking a long pull off his soda first, Adam went on, "I kept asking her about it and she just shrugged it off. Turns out she was just biding her time."

"Tell me she tazed the guy's balls while he was sleeping," Logan pleaded. The thought made his own shrink up a bit, but the punishment seemed fitting.

"Shut up and respect my sense of drama, will you? Like I said, she was just biding her time. Until the morning we had to go in for a meeting with Director David and Agent Maroni—this gorgeous brunette everyone knew Larry had a major crush on. We were there about ten minutes when the Viagra that Veronica had slipped into the guy's morning protein shake started to take effect."

Logan, in the middle of taking a drink of his soda, managed to spray it all over his shoes. He howled with laughter, wiping at the tears that pooled in the corners of his eyes. "Shit! What did he do?"

"There wasn't anything he could do! Veronica had texted Maroni ahead of time, so she knew what was up. Whenever it seemed like the meeting would end, one of them found a way to drag it out, just hoping David would notice." Adam's laughter joined his, and Logan felt better than he had since this day had started.

"Did he?"

"I didn't think so, until we were leaving the office. Larry was the last one out, and I overheard David tell him that whatever he'd been doing to piss off the women agents, he better knock it off."

Their hilarity was interrupted by the ringing of Adam's phone. Again. Trent had called three times already, irritated Logan and Adam were 'goofing off' without him.

The teasing comment, about finding enough chains for that many balls in one relationship, died on Logan's tongue when Adam's voice became businesslike.

"Rogan…How long?...Where?!...What are you doing?..." Adam's eyes darted quickly to Logan. "I'll be there as soon as I can, but I'm texting you something…" He turned his back on Logan and spoke a little softer. "I can't right now, just read it…I'll call you when I'm close." Closing his phone he rapidly typed something out before pulling in the fishing poles and heading for the driver's seat.

Logan watched all this, noting how Adam was avoiding eye contact, pretending he was too busy. He started to have a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He moved to sit in the seat next to Adam so they could speak over the roar of the engine.

As he started the boat, Adam shot him a practiced, relaxed smile, but he'd been in too much of a hurry to get going for it to be convincing. "Sorry to cut this short, but duty calls. I just got pulled into a case in Jersey. I'm getting off at Port Newark, and you'll have to take the boat back to Jerry's slip. I'll have Castor and Pollux meet you there."

"A case. What case Adam?"

It was harder to hear now that the boat had picked up speed, so Adam shouted, leaning toward Logan, "I'll tell you about it, once it's a done deal. Maybe on another fishing trip. We didn't catch anything, so we'll have to do this again."

Seeing their destination already coming into view, Logan realized how close they'd been to it this entire time. Despite his joking, Adam was as protective of Veronica as Logan himself was. If Veronica's meet was happening in Jersey, it could take almost an hour to get there from Manhattan. The boat trip wasn't just an escape, it was a strategic move to get Adam as close as possible to his partner.

Add in that the phone call had come an hour after her appointed meet time, and that Adam didn't want to look him in the eye, it wasn't hard to figure out that something had gone wrong.

Logan shouted back, holding onto the seat tightly since the boat was tipping up due to the speed. "Cut the crap, Rogan. What's happening with Veronica?"

Adam rolled his eyes briefly, still trying to play it off. "How should I know? I'm sure she'll call you as soon as she can. Jesus, you need to relax!"

Logan sat back, waiting until they'd pulled into the port to continue talking. It was a shipping port, designed for large cargo ships, but there was a smaller slip at the side for boats their size. When Adam deftly hopped out, Logan followed suit and tied up quickly.

Adam looked at his watch and muttered something under his breath, everything in him poised to run, and irritated at the delay. "I said you need to go back to Jerry's slip and the twins will meet you there."

Giving Adam a withering look Logan said, "We obviously don't have time to argue about this. You'll have to shoot me in the kneecaps or put up with me. What's it going to be?"

Another look at his watch had Adam muttering something about figuring it out later. He took off at a run, leaving Logan to follow. When a couple of workers approached them, Adam flashed his gold badge and told them he'd be back for the boat. As they left the shipping yard and darted up an unfamiliar street, adrenaline fueled Logan's every step.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank you all for being patient for the extra week it took to get this chapter to you. RL got busy, and it took a little extra work to get this where I wanted it. As always, there aren't enough thanks to extent to nevertothethird for all the betaing, idea bouncing, and laughs along the way. And for reminding me I don't need to be Aesop to tie up a scene. If Life Beta were actually a job, you would be at the top of the field. Plus, maybe I wouldn't have worn those harem-style stirrup pants in 2001.**

**I appreciate the reviews and new followers and favorites this week-it's inspiring to know that the time spent trying to get you the best story I am capable of is appreciated. I know it's a theme to beg for feedback but it really does make all the difference, so please drop me a line to let me know what you like.**

* * *

Chapter 11

Logan followed Adam up the street, both running too hard for him to ask questions. It didn't matter. Getting there was what was most important and, he admitted to himself, he was a little afraid of the answers he would get. After they had run almost a mile, Adam held up a hand to indicate they should stop.

Turning to him, Adam looked more pissed than he'd ever seen. His jaw was tight and his nostrils flared, as if he was having to work hard to keep his temper in control. Finally, closing his eyes and shaking his head, he spoke.

"Ok, you insisted on being here, so this is the deal. We are going to go in there. You are going to sit where I tell you and not say a word. No pacing and no Loganrants. I get even the wiff of you losing your cool I'll have you handcuffed and taken home. Got it?" Seeing the way Adam was still poised to run told Logan how quickly he needed an answer.

"Yeah, Adam, whatever. But, can you give me something, man? What's going on?" Logan could hear the pleading tone in his own voice. They both watched as a government sedan flew past them, heading up the street with a red light flashing on its roof.

"Veronica's missing." It was clear from the look in Adam's eyes that it hurt as much to say the words as it did Logan to hear them. It was one of the possibilities that Adam's phone call sparked, but it was still a shock.

Though it took everything in him to do so, Logan promised to follow Adam's instructions. He would be a shadow in the corner, silent as a ghost. He knew that, as hard as it would be to play bystander, it would be even harder to be stuck at home, waiting for a call. Adam grabbed the trucker hat out of his back pocket and jammed it on Logan's head, handing him the aviator glasses before turning the corner to head up the next street.

Two blocks up, the road was clogged with police motorcycles, three black SUVs and a couple standard issue government cars. As they sprinted the last length of the block, more sedans showed up, also flashing magnetic red lights on their roofs.

Adam pulled out his phone and made a call notifying someone of his arrival, and received instructions on where to go. Showing his badge to the police officer guarding the entrance, he and Logan entered a building. After a couple of wrong turns down a series of hallways, Adam found the room he was looking for—an unlettered, unnumbered office on the second floor.

The room felt crowded with more than ten agents in it. On the wall was a street map, populated with circles and Xs, and a blue print of a building with sections crossed off. A picture of Veronica and a woman Logan didn't recognize were also hanging on the wall.

When he saw Jason issuing instructions and pointing to sections of the street map, Logan did his best to squelch the rage that wanted to course through him. The man who'd lost his wife was in charge of finding her? But Adam's warning rang clear in his head. If he wanted to stay, he had to be background. Finding an unoccupied corner, he backed into it and crossed his arms over his chest to watch the proceedings.

Despite his efforts to blend, Jason had noticed Logan the minute he entered the room. He stuttered in the middle of a sentence and then gave a short, curt nod of acknowledgement before he went back to what he'd been saying.

Good. Logan wanted him to know that he was being held fucking accountable.

Agents were pouring in from all over the city, many leaving their own low-priority assignments or giving up their day off to help. As search areas were being divvied up, walkie-talkies were parceled out and the room emptied a bit, making room for new agents to come in. Once the steady stream of people volunteering to help had slowed to a trickle, Logan listened in as Adam approached Jason, though not everything made sense to him.

"Anything?" Adam asked.

Jason shook his head. "Matthews is covering it, and keeping me updated." Turning to Logan he said, "I'm sorry, but you can't be here right now."

As much as Logan hated to admit it, Jason really did look sorry, and completely stressed. He kept moving his jaw, as if his teeth were grinding together. He was taking deep, measured breaths, and his right hand was clenching and unclenching while his thumb worked the edge of the first finger.

"He is here, and he's my responsibility," Adam said, moving between the two of them so his back was to Logan. The message to Logan to fade back, instead of responding, was clear. "Dragan, break it down for me. How did this happen?"

Jason grimaced, and flitted his eyes towards Logan again before turning to Adam. "They met at the park at noon, as planned, and I followed them here. I lost them on the third floor, but could hear everything through the wire, and was using Veronica's tracker to try and get her exact location. But then the signal from both the wire and the tracker died."

That word, _died_, reverberated in Logan's brain. He knew he was taking it out of context, but still had to swallow the bile that rose in the back of his throat. But it threated to choke him as he listened to the rest of the details outlining just how dire her situation was.

Adam's deep breath matched Logan's own before he asked, "What do you mean, you lost them?"

Jason shook his head, frustration in his voice as he explained. "This building is like a goddamn rat maze. Half the offices aren't numbered, and some of the floors don't even match the latest blueprints. Modifications have been made without the benefit of permits. Plus, once we were inside, I couldn't follow too closely."

Crossing his arms, Adam bent his head down and closed his eyes before he started barking out questions. "How long has it been?"

Jason looked at his watch. "I last heard her at 12:33, so forty-three minutes. Agents are canvasing the entire building, as well as a six block radius."

"And the last transmission?"

"Veronica was being told to follow someone. It sounded like her contact's voice talking. Everything cut out right after."

"What about the contact?"

Jason shook his head. "This building has seven exits, and we only had three agents. We never saw them leave. The contact hasn't turned up anywhere. She's due to show up for her bartending shift at six, and we have agents watching her house, the bar, and the shelter for now."

Adam looked up, catching his lower lip in his teeth as he shook his head. "What do we know about the third floor tenants?"

"Not a lot, yet," Jason answered. "The offices are being searched now. Maroni is working on getting a list of everyone who has a lease, and will start the research as soon as that comes through. Plus, she's got the rental agent coming in for an interview. She'll let us know what she comes up with."

Nodding, Adam asked, "Where do you want me?"

With another sidelong glance at Logan, Jason answered, "Here. Monitor the walkie-talkies and mark off every area that has been searched. I need to go and check on a couple of other things."

Once Adam nodded, Jason picked up his walkie-talkie and headed out, wisely not saying anything else. Had he tried to approach Logan to offer his apologies, the promise to stay background would have been broken. A blind rage was held in check only by the sick, twisting knot in Logan's gut, and his forced effort to keep his feet glued to floor.

Adam finally turned to him once they were alone, his tone soothing. "I know you don't want to hear this right now, but he's doing everything possible."

"Everything possible to clean up his mess. If she'd been with you this never would have happened." This entire thing was Jason's fault. Logan felt that with a certainty, so the short bark of laughter Adam let out took him by surprise.

Rather than agreeing with him, Adam just looked furious. "Don't you dare lay that on me. Not only is it unfair, it's wrong. She was with me when she was shot, when she had her throat cut, and when she got beat up a couple of weeks ago. I'm not fucking Superman."

"I know you're not, but—"

"But nothing," Adam snapped. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands on his hips and closed his eyes. Shaking his head slightly, he started speaking again, the soothing tone back.

"I know how hard this is for you; it's hard for me too. Veronica and I have saved each other's asses more times than I can count, but if you do this job for any length of time you learn to accept that things happen." He paused and eyed Logan. "I'm sure she never told you that I went missing once."

That surprised him. Without meaning to, he had come to view Adam and Veronica's partnership as infallible. She might be reckless with her own safety, but she would never fail her partner, right? And if she had, wouldn't she have told him?

No, Logan realized, she wouldn't have. Because he would have immediately put it in the context of 'if this can happen to Adam, it can happen to you'. He wouldn't have been able to comfort her in light of his own fear. She deserved more. Right now it was Adam who needed to talk, so he settled back to listen.

"No, she never told me. When did that happen?"

The answer had to wait, though, as something on Adam's walkie grabbed his attention. Walking over to the building blueprint, Adam crossed off sections of the fourth and second floors, then turned back to Logan.

"About six years ago. I was in deep. They figured out I was a mole, but didn't know from where. They held me for thirty hours, worked me over pretty good, but Rover finally found me. Scared the hell out of both of us." The memory was in Adam's shadowed eyes as he looked at Logan. "Don't crucify Jason for this—trust me, he's already doing it to himself. I could see it on his face."

Taking a deep breath and flexing his jaw, Logan shook his head. "Jason's not the only one I'm stringing up on a cross. She wanted to come home yesterday, to drop the case and be with me, but I made her stay."

Adam rolled his eyes and tipped the left side of his mouth up. "You know as well as I do that you didn't 'make' Rover do anything. She had to choose between two things that sucked—leaving the case in the lurch or letting you deal with that abuser mess on your own—and you made the choice easy. As for this, trust me, she knew what she was getting herself into."

Damned if Adam wasn't convincing. Logan could feel some of his anger at both himself and Jason, leave, but tried to hold onto it anyway. Anger was the only thing that was keeping him standing.

* * *

After Veronica explored the perimeter of the room, and found the door impenetrable, she and Anne sat for a while, neither attempting fill the silence. It was a new experience. Whenever she was with Adam on a long stakeout, they would talk and tease, make stupid bets, teach each other the words to a song, or do crossword puzzles.

Quiet evenings with Logan were filled with his small but incessant motion. If they were on the couch reading or watching a movie he would constantly shift, knead a pillow, or absentmindedly trace a design on a leg she lay in his lap. She hoped that same restless energy was all Anne was read in her movements as she nervously toyed with the buckle to her combat boot.

She wanted to move fast; if she actually had been unconscious for several hours her team would be frantic for any word from her. It took effort to force her herself to move slowly, and she wished for a little noise to provide cover. It was a strange place to be taking off her shoe and, in the event someone was listening, she didn't want Anne asking questions.

But Anne was completely still, and quiet. If it wasn't for her low breathing, Veronica would have thought she was alone in this… room? Box? She could either focus on Anne, or on the claustrophobia she'd suffered since she was seventeen. The choice was easy.

"Do you know what they're planning to do with us?" If what had happened to Susan Jameson was any indication, she already knew. But she needed any information this girl might have.

Anne sounded disinterested, as if their fate was of no interest to her. "Not a clue. Every time the guy brings food I ask, but he just ignores me."

"Well," Veronica said, clawing at the heel inside the boot, "we have some time to kill. What's your story?" She wondered if this woman had been duped out of the abuse shelter like the others; however, during her time at The Haven she had never encountered anyone named Anne, so they might be pulling in victims from some other source.

"I ended up here, so I'm clearly not the brightest kid you ever met."

The sarcasm actually helped, and made Veronica laugh, though that three letter word made her gut flop sickeningly. "Kid, huh? How old are you?"

"Sixteen. What about you?"

Sixteen. Veronica marveled at the girl's age. She was only a child, but more calm and together under the circumstances than any adult would have a right to be. Finding both the device and the battery she was looking for, she put the two together and used her body to shield Anne from seeing the miniscule red light that went on, before stuffing it back into the heel of her shoe and covering it up. "Thirty actually, so I guess that makes me twice as stupid as you."

Anne's low laugh triggered her own and, though she wished the girl had avoided this fate, Veronica was glad she wasn't alone. As silence again filled up the space, she asked, "So, Anne, how did you end up in this steel terrarium?"

When the girl was quiet instead of answering, Veronica tried again. She had to make it sound less like an interrogation. "We don't have to talk about that, but can we talk about something? I'm not handling this as well as you are."

The girl sighed heavily, then started talking. "Yeah, whatever. I've been on my own, on the street, for about two years. Turned a few tricks when I really needed the money. Last guy that picked me up, when we were done he blindfolded me, tied my hands, and brought me here."

Hearing the matter-of-fact way the girl spoke, it was obvious she wasn't looking for sympathy. Veronica could remember feeling similarly at the same age. She vowed that if they got out of here, she would find a way to help this girl. But if she was going to do that, she couldn't alienate her. Anne would probably forgive her a lie or two, but would put up a wall if she was treated as a victim.

Telling the truth about being an agent would give this young girl the expectation of rescue. It wasn't fair to offer potentially false hope. This job—hell, her life-had taught her there was no such thing as a guarantee. But Anne had just told her a lot of personal information. She had to offer up some reason they had ended up in the same situation

"I was tricked. I'm on the run from somebody and believed that an absolute stranger would help me hide. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Well, I think that shows a serious lack of imagination, Veronica." Their laughter, more from shared stress than hilarity, helped stave off the panic for a few minutes longer.

* * *

Logan watched the operation, his fear growing exponentially with every passing moment. He'd done as Adam ordered and stayed in the corner, remaining quiet and letting everyone concentrate on their job. He alternated between leaning against the wall and sitting on the floor; he had too much nervous energy to just stay still. He'd found a paperclip and was repeatedly bending and unbending it into different shapes. By now his thumb was raw from pressing down on it repeatedly, but the pain was a welcome diversion.

The slow trickle of failure as each floor and street was searched and turned up nothing didn't help. Nor did the steady stream of curious agents obviously coming into the office just to get another look at him.

He could tell that within the first hour they all knew his name, his history, and that he was with Veronica. Adam was quick to spread the information that Veronica was hurt on a case, and not by Logan, but it didn't entirely stop the censorious glances thrown his way. The Melissa Wells story was still out there, after all.

Sandwiches and coffee were brought in, and Logan ignored both. Every minute on the clock tightened his gut just a little more, and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep anything down if he tried.

It wasn't until four-thirty that new information turned up. An office on the third floor that was supposed to be unoccupied had a working computer and security camera, and the rental agent confessed to pocketing a cash payment every month from a woman matching Junie's description.

A second search of the mystery office turned up a pair of purple framed glasses that Jason said Veronica had worn as part of a disguise. Logan heard a team was brought in to fingerprint every surface, but didn't care. If Veronica had been there, she wasn't now.

Around five, when Junie was picked up at her apartment, Veronica had already been missing for four and a half hours. The woman was en route to FBI headquarters to be interrogated by Director David himself, when the next bit of news came in.

An agent Logan hadn't seen before came tearing into the office at five-fifteen. A quick conference with Adam and Jason spurred a round of walkie-talkie conversations, of which Logan could only catch a few words. There was just too much going on at once.

_Signal…yard…all agents…ten minutes…_

Jumping to his feet, Logan waited for someone to notice him. He needed to know what was happening. Thankfully, Adam remembered he was there.

"We may have something, and things are going to be chaotic in here for a little while. Agent Robbins is going to take you to another room. The press picked up the manhunt and they are swarming outside, but they don't know you're here. At least, not yet. I don't want this getting any crazier."

Logan nodded and followed as a young agent, the presumed Robbins, led him out of the office and into another hallway. He wanted to stay but knew it was the wrong time to start bucking orders. All of the focus needed to be on Veronica right now.

* * *

Anne had been right; when Veronica had done her exploration, she'd found the only things in the room were the two of them and a bucket in the farthest corner. She didn't want to use it, but if something didn't change soon she would have to. Several hours of lying unconscious and a bottle of water were about to turn the situation dire. She'd never been one for camping and sure as hell didn't appreciate the rustic conditions, a fact she was going to make sure Junie knew, if she ever saw her again.

_Junie came out of the door that she had gone through before. She asked Veronica to follow, then turned and disappeared._

_Trailing Junie, Veronica went down yet another hallway, then into a large, windowless room. Facing the door was an older gentleman with a full head of white hair, a neatly trimmed white beard, and kindly looking blue eyes. In the corner to her left stood a young, strong-looking man with dark hair and olive skin, who nodded at her in greeting._

_Ignoring the young man, Junie introduced her to the other gentleman. "Richard Shaw, this is Tammy Turner, the woman I've been telling you about."_

_Veronica nodded, but before she could voice a pleasedtomeetcha, Richard nodded at Junie and said, "I think we can take it from here, dear. Thank you so much."_

_Knowing Junie was leaving made Veronica's entire body tense up. She forced herself to breathe, to stay calm. Jason would be close by, listening to everything that went on. This was just a conversation in the middle of a busy city. She could leave anytime, especially now that she had a name and a physical description. Now she just needed him to incriminate himself._

_Still smiling benignly at her, once Junie left, Richard beckoned to the young man standing in the corner. Veronica's heart sank as she recognized the signal blocker the guy held in his hand. Designed to prevent cell phones and GPSs to work, it would also kill the transmission from her wire and her tracker. _

_Before she had a chance to try and beg off on the meeting, or make a run for it, the young man had moved behind her. The next thing she knew a starburst of pain spread from the base of her skull and everything went dark._

"Anne, can you talk or something? I'm trying really hard to keep it together, but—"

"Yeah, I get it. I was pretty much a basket case the first couple of days."

"And now? How are you so calm?" Veronica guessed four days in this tomb would either make you crazy or numb, but the girl didn't seem to be either.

"I don't know. I guess - have you ever been homeless? Or been totally alone?"

She thought back to when things were at their worst in high school; when it felt as everyone had abandoned her, before she made new friends in Wallace, Mac and Weevil. But even then she'd had her dad, and he was more than any kid needed. "No, and not really."

"Well, after the first couple of days, I realized this was the safest I'd felt in the past two years. I don't know what's going to happen but, for right now, no one is hassling me."

Veronica knew what happened to young girls living on the street, especially someplace like New York. Finding a place to sleep where you didn't get mugged, beaten, or raped was a rarity. Their being in this situation together meant she was involved now, and she had to know more.

"How did you end up on the street?"

After a long pause Anne volunteered, "I don't have a dad, or any other family. When I was fourteen my mom's boyfriend tried to—you know, the usual. Anyway, when I told my mom, she called me a liar and kicked me out. I've been on my own ever since."

"What about shelters, or foster care?"

The weariness in the girl's voice made her sound much older than her age. "Tried both, went pretty much like it did with my mom's boyfriend. Figured I'd be better off on my own."

Veronica was quiet a moment, thinking about this kid's screwed up reality. "Where do you stay?"

"You mean, stayed? A couple of places. Mostly this abandoned warehouse on Rockaway, off Pitkin."

What had she expected, that Anne was renting a room in her neighborhood? But, damn…"I know the area. It has some of the worst violent crime stats in the city, plus a lot of drug traffic."

A new firmness and anger came across in Anne's voice when she next spoke. "I don't do drugs. I'm not that stupid. Why do you suddenly sound like a cop?"

"I—" Veronica was saved from answering when she heard the muffled sound of a gunshot. After a moment the hint of voices could be heard outside their room. Including one very familiar and reassuring one yelling, "FBI!"

* * *

Robbins' walkie-talkie was going crazy, with people talking over one another. Logan could not understand how they could decipher anything out of such a scrambled, staticy mess, and he strained his ears trying. But as Robbins opened a door and ushered him in, they both heard it emit a sound like a gunshot and Logan froze, unable to swallow.

The agent quickly exited the room, leaving him to go crazy wondering. He was experiencing the strangest, almost contradictory version of the fight or flight response, because he wanted to do both at the same time. To fly to wherever she was, and to fight whoever tried to stop him. But he was thwarted on both counts. Even if he did know where to go, he wouldn't get one step out the door without being swarmed by reporters.

Being stuck in this room meant he had to think instead of react, and every possibility that gunshot represented was ricocheting around the interior of his skull. He could feel his heart pounding and the increased pressure in his lungs as he fought to find oxygen. Leaning over to grab his knees he concentrated on getting himself under some semblance of control. Right now, he had to remind himself that he didn't know anything, good or bad. Which meant he had to maintain at least a modicum of control in case she needed him.

After twelve and a half minutes his appointed watcher returned, and brought him a bottle of water and a sandwich. Ignoring the refreshments, Logan came close to the guy, careful to keep his hands in his back pockets. "What's going on?"

The agent, who looked to be in his early twenties and was probably a newbie, just shook his head. "My only orders were to watch over you. I can't tell you anything."

"Fuck that. I heard a gunshot. I'm here with Special Agent Adam Rogan. You need to fill me in."

"Sir, it was Agent Rogan who ordered you moved. He'll be here soon to talk to you."

Goddamn feds. Now that he was breathing normally again, he had an equal amount of anger to match his fear. Logan was too busy dialing Adam's number on his phone to notice when the guy left. Three rings and a voice mail. He hung up and dialed back. Three rings and a voice mail again.

By his third attempt he'd walked the length of the room several times; however, it wasn't nearly enough to dissipate the energy he had built up after the hours of staying still, or to calm the fear that was making his hands shake. He could feel the warm tickle of sweat running down his spine, and backhanded his sopping forehead. This time when the voice mail ended, he didn't hang up. "Adam, Logan. I…just, please man. Let me know something, anything."

He put his back against the wall, and lowered into a squat. He's held out as long as he could, and the morbid possibilities were starting to creep in. If she was okay, someone would have at least sent word, right? Being left to wait, could it mean that Adam wanted to tell him the bad news himself?

He started lightly tapping the back of his head against the wall, reminding himself that these moments were part of the package with Veronica. When they got back together he had known what he was getting in to; how high risk her job was, and how hard she would fight to get home to him.

He'd dedicated himself to learning the ins and outs of her; to know when she needed to be held, needed a laugh, or needed a fight. Right now she needed him to believe in her and, when she came home, he'd be there for whatever else she needed.

With a small laugh, he shook his head and half-smiled. "I'm good at it."

_They had been back together about a month, and Veronica was still hadn't told her dad. Since Keith lived so far away, it didn't seem like a big deal until her dad called while they were watching a movie. Or, rather, a movie was playing while they were in the late stages of foreplay on the couch. _

_Recognizing her dad's ringtone, the 'The Long Ranger' theme, she reacted like a seventeen-year-old girl who had snuck out to see her boyfriend. Her head rising from Logan's lap, she lunged for her bag on the floor and answered it the third time the ringtone played, letting out a breathless, "Hello?" into the phone._

_After a few minutes of listening to her mindless prattle, "Nothing…just came in from getting the mail...Work is good…" Logan was angry. Putting off telling her dad was one thing, but this was blatant lying. _

_Hanging up, she gave him sheepish smile. He hadn't bothered to straighten his clothes so was still sitting there, his limp dick intentionally left on display as a reminder of what they'd been doing when she'd answered the phone. Her smile disappeared when he snarked, "Lie to your father with that mouth?"_

_He angrily pulled his pants up and fastened them, then grabbed his own phone from where it had fallen on the floor. After a few moments of playing with it and refusing to talk to her, he threw it on the couch._

_"We're on the 8am flight. Let your boss know you won't be there tomorrow because you're taking a long weekend to visit your dad. So you can introduce him to your _boyfriend."_ Then he stomped off to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him._

_While he was hurt that she'd waited this long, he also knew how much she hated keeping secrets from her dad. Forcing the two of them to meet face-to-face was the best way to handle this; she was too good at playing the avoidance game._

_That she went along with the plan told him she also knew it was the right thing to do. He understood her hesitation; her dad had really liked Charlie and been confused by their breakup. He was unaware she and Logan were back in touch, much less that he had been in Oregon with her. Keith only had memories of an out-of-control teenage Logan to base his feelings on. But none of that was going to improve with waiting._

_When they pulled up outside of her dad's house, he noticed her wipe her hands on her jeans, as if her palms had begun to sweat. As he came around to open her door, she gave him a brave smile, exited the car, and headed toward the house. She knocked, then shuffled her feet nervously while waiting for her father to answer. _

_If he were being honest, he was feeling a fair amount of tension himself. _

_Her dad looked poleaxed to open the door and find her standing there. He grinned and swept her up into a hug, then abruptly put her down when he recognized her companion. Looking from one to the other, his mouth settled into a hard line; a look that said she had done something very wrong. With a grimace he nodded and said, "Logan."_

_Logan responded politely and nodded back. "Sheriff Mars."_

_Standing back to usher them into the living room, Keith was quiet until they had settled into their seats. Veronica sat on the couch and Logan took the spot right next to her, sitting as close as possible. Her dad chose the chair directly across from them, the better to study both their faces while they spoke, like in an interrogation._

"_So, your breaking up with Charlie is making a lot more sense." His tone was accusatory as he glared at Logan._

_Logan's eyes went back and forth between the two of them. At her dad's comment, Veronica's nervous expression disappeared. He could see by the set of her jaw and the flash of her eyes she was getting angry._

_She met Keith's steely gaze with one of her own. _"_You know it's never that simple, dad. But, yes, Logan and I are back together."_

_Keith's voice was laced with disappointment as he admonished, "For how long this time? Is it worth turning your life upside down, Veronica?"_

"_Dad-" she started, before he interrupted her and leaned forward to point a finger between the both of them as he spoke._

"_Now wait. I don't like to talk about it, but it was hard to miss the…damn it, we're all grownups here so I'll call it what it was. The passion between the two of you. But, by now, you should know that passion and love aren't the same thing." _

_Veronica seemed unruffled by this statement, but Logan felt a rare rush of warmth to his cheeks. Her father wasn't an idiot; of course he'd figured out they were sleeping together the last time they'd dated. But just had how much had he seen? _

_Logan's chagrin wasn't important though. Seeing how furious Veronica was, he knew he had to do something before she lashed out at her father. Whether it made her laugh or redirected her anger at him wasn't important, so he joined the conversation with a dead-on Forrest Gump impersonation._

_"I may not be a smart man, but I know what love is."_

_He was gratified that his gamble had paid off. Instead of yelling at her dad, she snorted a laugh, then bit her lip and tried to sober up when Keith glowered at her, obviously not fooled by her attempt to pull a straight face. _

_Once she had quieted, his scowl centered on Logan. "Ok, how about this. She's ambitious and motivated, but you were always looking to just catch the next party or next wave. What are you going to do while she focuses on her career?"_

_Logan leaned forward to stare intently at Keith, his demeanor suddenly intent and serious. "What I really want to do with my life-what I want to do for a living—is be with your daughter. I'm good at it."_

_Veronica couldn't hold back this time. Logan grinned as she cracked up, then slapped a hand over her mouth to try and make herself stop. The result was a very unladylike sort of snarfling, nasal cough that got worse when she caught Logan's eye._

_Her dad's face was flushed as he pointed to the porch ordering her, "Out! I want to talk to Logan alone." _

_Logan winked when she threw a wordless apology his way, and then did as she was told. Knowing she was watching, he cockily leaned back on the couch, sprawled his legs, extended an arm on the back of the pillows, and grinned at her father._

_As soon as she closed the door, he wilted, dropping the attitude. Lowering his arm from the couch, he cleared his throat and waited for the boom to drop. Instead of yelling, Keith's glare softened and he gave Logan an appraising look._

"_Which is the act?"_

_Rarely embarrassed, Logan was surprised to find himself blushing twice in ten minutes. "I'm sorry. I just figured if she was laughing at me, she wouldn't be yelling at you."_

_Keith snorted and started running a hand up and down his endless forehead. "It's not the end of the world if we fight. We always find our way back to each other."_

_With a small laugh, Logan glanced down at the carpet. "I know what you mean."_

_His hand moving from his head to his lips, Keith sighed. "I suppose you do." _

His reminiscing was halted when he heard a knock at the door, twenty-seven minutes after it had last closed. He stood up, the hand that was holding his phone shaking. With the first of the eight steps it would take to reach the door, he called out warily, "Adam?"

"No, he's a little busy. Did you want me to get him for you?" Veronica's teasing lilt was accompanied by her smiling face poking around the door she'd opened.

He didn't remember even taking the final steps it took to reach her. He just knew the relief that coursed through him when he pulled her close; when he felt her arms wrap around his back, and he could rest his cheek on the top of her head. Once reassured he wasn't imagining this, that the familiar feeling of having a 105lb hummingbird in his arms was real, he leaned back and cupped her face in his hands.

She looked like hell. Her face was pale, making the dark shadows above her cheeks stand out even more. Exhaustion etched the creases at the corners of her eyes, and they held an unfamiliar look, almost haunted. As he studied them, he saw her chin start to quiver. Silent tears started to course down her face, all the bravado she'd entered the room with gone.

Pulling her in farther, he kicked the door shut behind them and stood holding her. He could feel her body as it started to shake; whatever fear she'd been pushing to the side was coming to the forefront now that she was safe. Conversely, the moment he'd seen her, his tremors had stopped.

If the rest of his life consisted of nothing more than standing in this ugly room, with her in his arms, it was enough.

* * *

It was after one in the morning when Adam dropped her off a block from home. She got to see, firsthand, the circus that had come to her front stoop, and prayed her disguise would hold for just a few more minutes.

Logan had been snuck out in an FBI sedan hours before, but she had stayed to finish tending to business. She had to catch up her team on what had happened, deal with Anne, get checked out by an EMT, and make several phone calls from a secure line. She had reached for her cell phone at least a hundred times, but instead forced herself to focus, knowing if she stopped to call or even think about him, it would just put off her going home that much longer.

Donning the now-detested purple-framed glasses, she clutched Jason's camera in front of her to blend in with the wannabe press. She sidled around the milling bodies, her lack of height letting her sneak past them, and stepped over the prone figures catching a few minutes of sleep. Casually working her way toward the guy playing sentinel by the kitchen door, she pulled out a notepad as if to interview him.

After showing him the codeword she'd written, he let her pass. She swiftly stuck her key in the lock and entered the house, slamming the door on the shouts and questions behind her as the bored reporters clued in.

In the dimly lit kitchen, Hat and Mc leaned against her from both sides as she put in the code for the alarm, then reached down to give them a pat hello. Suddenly a large body came from behind and captured her around the waist, turning her around and pressing her against the door.

Logan's voice growled in her ear, sending a shiver up her spine. "God, you took forever. How did you sneak past the press?" She placed her hands on his arms and tilted her head back to look at him, contentment surging through her when he gave her a sweet kiss hello.

She shrugged, and gave him a small smile. "That's not press. It's vermin. They're easy to fool."

The sudden light blinded her for a second, causing a stab of pain to her already present megrim. She squinted up to see Logan staring down at her or, more precisely, staring at her brown hair and glasses before he pulled them off.

"So, we're still keeping us a secret?" She could see the way his lips pressed together as he waited for her answer.

"No." When he smiled at her, she couldn't help but smile back. She hadn't realized how much the hiding had been wearing on them both after all this time. "But do you mind if we hold off on the press conference until the morning? It's already been a hell of a day."

"Tomorrow works," he said, lowering his head to kiss her again. It wasn't a kiss of ardor, but of reassurance, accepted and given in kind.

She reveled in the feel of him against her, the familiar taste of him on her lips. Walking in the house wasn't enough. She hadn't truly come home until this moment.

He pulled away from the kiss too soon and rested his forehead against hers, his arms loosely wrapped around her waist. "Tired?"

"Yeah, and I've got a wicked headache." She hesitated, knowing he'd be upset she didn't tell him earlier. "I kind of got a bump on the head as a souvenir."

"Wait, when did you—" Logan started, but cut himself off when she winced at his tone. Putting his hands in her hair, he felt around until he located the lump at the base at the skull. "For now, you need to sleep." His lips were set in a firm line and his eyes bore into her. "But in the morning you tell me everything.

She sighed tiredly and leaned against him as they walked together to go upstairs. "More than you probably want to know."

Getting into bed, they took their usual positions; both on their sides, him curled up behind her with an arm thrown over her waist, and his knees tucked into the backs of hers. She couldn't see him, but could feel his arm grow heavier as he drifted off, accompanied by as the sensation of his regular breaths tickling against her neck, and she scooted back into the warmth he offered.

When they first turned out the lights, she'd wondered if the dark room would trigger the memory of being in that container, but this darkness was dissimilar. Here she felt safe and protected, sharing the intimacy of this space with the man she loved and their two guard dogs on the floor. The sounds and smells of the room soothed with their familiarity. She allowed herself the joy of being there and finally, when Logan mumbled and unconsciously pulled her closer, she smiled and fell asleep.

* * *

Logan woke up early the next morning, and took a moment to admire the flaxen haired sprite in bed beside him. Once again it felt like the universe had given them a pass, and he had to wonder what they'd done to deserve so many.

It was clear she was going to sleep a few more hours so he took the dogs for a run, again ignoring all the shouted questions from the crowd of reporters. It seemed even larger today, and he attributed it to Melissa's story increasing the attention on him. He'd turned off his phone when Veronica had come home the night before, no longer caring what the clipping service had to tell him.

He cranked Eminem's 'Lose Yourself' loudly in his ears, and kept pace with the Vasenden twins. The media would be dealt with soon enough, once he and Veronica sat down and hammered out their formal statement.

When he got home he took a shower, then sat in the armchair across from their bed and looked up the links he had been sent by the clipping service.

The news was out, every piece of it. It had started with an anonymous tip reporting that his girlfriend's name was Tammy Turner, and she had recently been seeking help from a women's shelter that specialized in abuse victims.

Then, the media having nothing new to report and unable to turn up 'Tammy Turner', had started to rehash his life in detail. Lily's murder at the hands of his father, Veronica's involvement with him and with the case eleven years ago, having murder charges brought against him and then dropped, the bum fights, pictures of every bimbo he'd ever been stupid enough to be photographed with, and of course the 'Melissa Wells Story' as it was now being called.

Once the public was reminded of his involvement with Veronica, she was quickly outed as the mysterious girlfriend. At the same time, news was breaking that one Special Agent Veronica Mars had gone missing the day before, and been found in a shipping container at Port Newark.

Logan blanched at this reveal. Adam had sent him home the night before, giving him only fifteen minutes alone with Veronica. They hadn't had time to discuss any of the details of what had happened. As much as they had both hated being separated again, it was understandable. She had still had a job to do, and the media attention on Logan was going to make it a lot harder if his presence became known. He'd resigned himself to wait until Veronica got home to get all the answers. But, _Jesus. _ He and Adam had run right through that port, having no idea Veronica was there.

He almost didn't open the next link, worried about what he would learn. This time, though, it was good news. Deputy Director David of the New York FBI office had issued a formal statement explaining that Veronica's injuries had resulted from her involvement in a case. That her alias 'Tammy Turner' and time at the women's shelter had all been a part of an investigation, and in no way were due to her relationship to Logan Echolls. That she was an exemplary agent and had served her country well. In the seven years she had worked for the FBI, she had been a key player in cases involving human trafficking, as well as other crimes.

It was a small leap from a cargo container, at a port that served ships coming from all over the world, to the mention of human trafficking. Logan had known the risk when she'd gone missing; known the kinds of cases she often worked, but hadn't allowed himself to put it together until now.

Looking at her from where he sat, so small she was barely a blip under the covers, he wondered at how much of the world she had tried to save. How much she _had_ saved in her years as a PI, and then as an agent. He was one, but how many other people owed her their lives? People who weren't even aware of it because she caught the criminals before they could commit more crimes?

His phone buzzed with a new link, a report that a document had been filed with the courts that morning correcting the spelling on a marriage certificate issued the previous year to Lokan Ekols and Beronica Mers.

That's when he knew that Veronica had set this whole thing in motion the night before. Despite her kidnapping, exhaustion, and a nasty blow to the head, she had orchestrated a well-timed series of reveals to the press, to tell their story in the order she wanted it told.

It took everything in him not to climb back into bed with her, to wake her up and tell her how much it meant to him. But, she needed her sleep so, instead, he went downstairs and made a massive breakfast, knowing how much she appreciated comfort food when she felt like crap. Just as he was setting the last of the goods on the counter, she came stumbling down the stairs, her hair a mess of tangles, but the dark smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes considerably lightened.

"This is so sweet, but do you mind if I don't eat much? I'm not awake yet."

"Sure, it'll keep. Coffee?"

"No, I'll just…" she grabbed a couple of pancakes and rolled up a link sausage in each one, then grabbed the glass of orange juice he had poured her and headed toward the den.

After his LA years, dating women who thought carbs were akin to toxins, he had to snort at her version of eating lightly. Ignoring the food, he grabbed a cup of coffee and shadowed her trail into the den. She was curled up on the couch, legs covered by a blanket while she noshed on her second pig-in-a-blanket, the first already gone. Her free hand was petting Hat, who'd laid his head in her lap.

"Feeling better?"

She nodded. "Much, thanks. The headache is just background noise now. Your pancakes are getting almost as good as your French toast."

He'd already given her eight hours before starting this conversation; he couldn't wait any longer. "I know you just got up, but any chance we can talk about what happened yesterday?" Sitting next to her on the couch, he put down his coffee and settled back to listen.

She finished her snack, and took a big pull of juice before launching into the details of the case. A lot of it he already knew from the news article, but he let her talk anyway. When she described waking up in the shipping container, with her tracker and her wire missing, it took everything within him to maintain control and not berate her for her stupidity, regardless of the fact that it wasn't actually her fault.

"You were missing for hours. How did they know where to find you?"

"Well, some years ago something happened with Adam when we were on a case. Since then, we've kept an extra tracker in our shoes. If we need it, we just have to connect the battery and turn it on. But it can't be detected until it's live. Once I woke up, I turned on the tracker."

"A thing happened—do you mean when Adam went missing for thirty hours and you had to find him?" He saw her eyes widen at that, before she nodded. "He told me about that yesterday. But why didn't he tell me about the extra tracker?"

Finishing her juice, she stretched over and put it on the coffee table. He noticed how she didn't wince at the movement; her ribs didn't seem to be bothering her much anymore. "By the time you got there I'd already been gone awhile. He figured it would make you even more worried that I hadn't been able to turn it on."

He rubbed his palm against his face as he thought about how he would have dealt with that. "He was right. And Junie? How does she justify bringing women to a monster that sells them?"

"The psychologist is going to spend a lot of time figuring that out, but he already said she is seriously damaged. She suffered serious physical and emotional abuse from her husband for years, and then this guy came in and saved her. Helped her escape, gave her money, a new identity – she' convinced he's her personal Messiah. In a way I guess he was, though his reasons were nefarious; he was just creating someone who would fish for victims."

"Did you guys figure out who he is?" He wondered how much a hit cost these days. Whatever it was, he was sure he could afford it. It even seemed a fitting way to spend his dad's money.

"Yeah. Junie still maintains he's innocent, but told us where to find him so he could clear his name. He was taken into custody in Albuquerque last night."

"Albuquerque?"

"After they snuck me out and the FBI swarmed the building, he took off. He has a kind of safe house there. "

Everything else could wait. He looked at her, and knew there were so many more of these stories he hadn't been privy to over the years. It had been his choice, but he wouldn't hide from it anymore. Yesterday had been miserable, but he'd seen how much she'd needed him when it was all over. He'd spent the remainder of his evening, after coming home, wondering how many other times she'd needed him. How many times she'd put on a brave face before walking in the door, pretending nothing had gone wrong so he wouldn't get upset.

"Veronica, about your job—"

"I'm quitting, Logan. I told Adam last night. I'll officially resign once we finish getting this media mess cleared up."

He shook his head at her, knowing he wasn't going to give her the response she expected. "I actually think that would be a bad idea."

"You're kidding." She tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brow, leaning forward to rest her forearms on her knees. He could hear the confusion in her question. "I thought that's what you wanted?"

"If you'd told me a week ago that you were quitting I would have been thrilled. But I've had reason to reconsider." The nerves that had him jumping off the couch to move around were from the fear of handling this wrong and having her make the opposite decision out of spite. She hated it when other people gave an opinion about what she should do, even him.

She frowned as she scanned his face, as if she would find an explanation there. "What kind of reason?"

He noticed that she turned on the couch so she was still facing him. He picked up a small toy Laura had left, a plastic, bobble-headed, four-legged creature with armor on its head and back and, inexplicably, a pink bow on its head and _LPS_ tattooed on its ass. First clenching it in his fingers, he started tossing it back and forth between his hands as he talked.

"Remember I said I'd had a few random thoughts and epiphanies after our fight the other day?" He waited for her nod before he continued. "Basically, I realized, you aren't going to be happy unless you're doing something to save the world. Whether you're working for your dad, the FBI or the Justice League, the end result is the same."

He'd hoped to cage a smile out of her with the comment, but instead her frown deepened. "So, what? You're saying I've some kind of superhero complex?"

He shook his head, still tossing the little toy between his hands as he rocked on his feet. "No, I'm saying you _are _a superhero. You don't know how to be anything else. At least with the bureau, you're not going it alone." Thoughts of times past, like when she was alone fighting off Mo and Mercer, ran through his mind. He much preferred the show of force that came out on her behalf yesterday.

Though she let out a small laugh, he saw she wasn't amused when her chin started to quiver and her eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to be the hero anymore. Last night was the worst. But, If you knew…" she swallowed and wiped at the wetness that was pouring down her cheeks. "I've done some things the past several years that scared even me."

He stopped his pacing and stood in front of her, the toy in his hand forgotten. "I know more than you think."

"Like what?"

"Like you worked undercover at an elementary school so you could befriend a pedophile that was casing it for his next victim. You convinced him you could give him access to any kid he wanted."

She looked up at him; her face was still pink and wet from her crying, but was now wearing a shrewd expression. "Just how much did Adam tell you?"

"Enough to know you spent a lot of time at the perv's apartment, stringing him along until he fed you information that led you to his earliest victims; the ones he'd violated before he learned how to be so careful. Adam said he was convicted on seven counts, and will spend the rest of his life locked away."

"And that doesn't scare you?"

Dropping to the floor in front of her, he placed his hands on her knees and put their faces only inches apart. "Of course it scares me. But looking back at what you've accomplished, do you regret any choice you've made in your job?"

She reached up and bracketed his jaw with her hands, her eyes filling again. "I regret that it got in the way of my being here with you. Especially the past two days. I'm so sorry."

He tried to smile at her, but knew it came out as a grimace instead. "Yeah, that sucked." He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and used his thumb to catch the solitary tear that fell from her eye. "But I get it. Besides, for the first time, I wasn't alone when something like this happened. Charlie, Henry, Adam, and Dick all rallied around. I knew Mac was doing her thing, and then you worked your ass off last night to get my name cleared."

With all the other emotions of the past few days, he'd been surprised at how gratified he'd felt having so many people help hold him up. When everything had happened with his mom, and then his dad, and being charged with murder himself, it had just been Veronica who had really stood by him. Duncan had been useless, and back then Dick's version of support was to help him get drunk and raise hell.

He leaned forward the few inches that separated them, and gave her a light kiss before pulling back again. "And I'm okay with playing Steve Trevor if it means you save a girl's life."

"Steve Trevor?"

"Nevermind." He knew she wouldn't; that she'd Google the reference the minute she could. But he liked knowing he'd make her smile later.

"The point is, your job scares me at times, but it doesn't bother me. Not anymore." He gave her a rueful smile, to accompany the rest of this truth. "Though, the fact that your undercover days are over helps a lot."

She laughed and returned his kiss with one of her own. "I bet. But you weren't the only one having epiphanies. I actually talked to Adam a few days ago about quitting."

That surprised him. He sat back on his heels so he could better see her face while she explained this. "Before or after our fight?"

"After." When he opened his mouth to speak, to tell her he didn't want her making a career change because of that awful night, she placed a hand over it. "But it's been coming on for a while. It just took that fight to let me admit it."

He knew her well enough to recognize how sincere she was; this wasn't a half-truth she was embellishing for his sake. "Why do you want to quit? And give me a reason that doesn't have anything to do with our problems."

Shrugging her shoulders, she looked down at his hands in her lap, and took the toy from him. Using her thumb to rub the texture of the armor while she studied it, she said, "I know I sound like a middle-schooler saying this, but I'm tired of all the rules. Every decision I make has to be vetted before I can act. If I dare get creative, it could mean a mark in my file later. It just doesn't feel like the right place for me anymore."

"Let me ask you this. If you quit the FBI, what would you do instead?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why do I have to do anything? Didn't you know? I married money."

He allowed himself the fantasy of her staying at home for about twenty seconds. Enough for a montage of writing breaks spent finding her for a little conversation, dancing, or lovemaking to play through his head. Taking vacations whenever they felt like it, the only demands on their schedule being the dogs' needs or the few deadlines he faced whenever he had to do a script rewrite. A hedonistic existence that she would tolerate for about a week before it made her crazy with boredom.

"There is no 'have to'. But let your mind drift on that 'doing nothing' thing for a minute. Actually close your eyes and picture it."

She raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together in an expression rife with skepticism. He tightened his hands on her knees and winched up an eyebrow at her. "Just humor me, okay?"

"Will you settle for me amusing you?"

At his pointed look, she rolled her eyes before she closed them, took a deep breath and settled back on the couch. It was almost comical how clear her thoughts were. She started out with a look of utter contentment, then wiggled her eyebrows slightly in a way that let him know she was thinking of him.

He grinned, but didn't say anything, just waited until she finished whatever particular fantasy was playing out in her mind.

When her head cocked to the side just the tiniest bit, and her brow furrowed, he knew she'd come to the same conclusion he had. Still he waited. By the time her eyes finally opened, she'd drawn her eyebrows almost entirely together.

"I could do private security. Jordan Green used to be a fed. Did you know that?" He almost laughed out loud, but didn't want to break her thought process.

"It doesn't surprise me. You'd be good at security. Is that what you want to do?"

She exhaled noisily through her nose, a little hmm sounding at the back of her throat. "With my years as a PI and a fed, it would be a slam dunk to open my own detective agency."

"I'm sure with your cred you could almost handpick your clients." He watched as she started to worry her lower lip between her teeth, still thinking through the possibilities.

"I could go to law school. It would only take three years to get my degree."

"That could come in handy. I've only been arrested for murder twice, and they say things come in threes." At that, she snorted and lifted her feet to put them against his chest.

"So your plan is to be supportive, whether I stay at the FBI or do something else?"

He could feel the corner of his mouth tip up in a wry smile as he grabbed her ankles. "No plan. I'm just winging it here. But can I make a suggestion?" The lifting and lowering of her left shoulder indicated her agreement.

His knees were starting to hurt so he got off the floor and plopped next to her on the couch, touching the knuckles of his hand to hers, in their familiar way. She opened her fingers and threaded them with his, and waited for him to talk.

"The past few days haven't exactly set us up to think rationally. How about you hold off on any final decisions on your job until things settle down?" He hoped she'd agree. Without a direction to move in, he worried even more about the trouble she'd get into if she left the bureau, but they had time to figure it out.

Something she seemed to realize. She gave a deep sigh, and her smile looked relieved. "Fair enough. Today we have three other priorities, anyway."

He lifted their entwined hands and placed a kiss on the back of hers. "Like what? You've already fed the press all the information." As she pointed to herself and gave him a mock-innocent expression, he rolled his eyes.

"Sure, Beronica. It was coincidence that it all came out last night, in the order it did. The FBI is known for issuing press releases at four in the morning. Anyway, the media is a done deal. They have our story and they'll turn it into whatever they want." He could hear the bitterness in his voice, and wished he didn't care what was said about him. But he couldn't help it.

She looked at him and quirked the left side of her mouth up, shaking her head. "Like you believe I would ever leave it at that. Not when it comes you. So yeah, that's priority one. Priority two is us. Just us, taking time away from all this insanity. Are we still on for Scotland?"

He laughed and reached over to brush some hair off her face, continuing to stroke her cheek, as he spoke in a horrible brogue. "You bet your knickers. So what's the plan for the press?"

Though he was sure trying to change the media's opinion of him, and thereby several million random strangers', was pointless, he was curious what she was up to.

Grabbing his hand and looking at his watch, she stood up. "It starts with me taking a shower, pronto. I've got an entire day of fun planned for us, and I'm running late."

He followed her with his eyes, confused, and asked, "What do you mean an entire day of fun?"

She turned around and faced him, moving backward as she talked. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I say fun? I meant surprises."

Despite the fact that her hair was tangled, she still had slight shadows under her eyes, and her remaining makeup was unevenly smeared from sleep and tears, her teasing smile and the evil glint she had in her eyes sent a thrill through his groin.

Knowing she had a schedule, he pacified himself with watching the ease with which she could now move as she made her way to the stairs. They would have time later to explore just how healed she was. But then something else occurred to him as she reached the dining room.

"Wait? You said three priorities. What's the third?"

She tossed him the little toy she'd taken from him earlier. "Figure out what the hell kind of animal that is supposed to be. It's been driving me crazy."

* * *

**A/N Oh! and for the casting for Adam - nevertothethird suggested Ioan Gruffodd - um...yum! He wasn't on my radar before, but is definitely there now! He's just wears mischievous and sexy so well. FatPatricia515 suggested Matt Bomer whose eyes I could spent weeks staring at. From all the episodes of White Collar we definitely know he could pull off the undercover work. My sister threw out a young Craig Beirko whose impish grin I've had stuck in my head since she suggested it - he could definitely hold his own against Veronica.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

When Veronica came back down the stairs twenty minutes later, Logan was done eating and about to start the hated kitchen cleanup. It was going to be another three weeks before her cast came off and she could resume her share of the KP. He couldn't wait, though the surly comment he was going to make about it died on his tongue when he saw her.

Freshly showered, she was dressed in dark skinny jeans, tall black boots, and a white v-necked t-shirt that had been a birthday gift from Dick. It bore the phrase 'Grow a Pear' with two green pears underneath it, strategically placed.

His tongue literally in his cheek, he eyed the fruit, thinking he might need to rethink his stance on pears. Either that or it was a sign that, at this point, he was seriously deprived sexually. "So, you're saying I need to do a better job of keeping up on the laundry?"

"What?" She looked down at her clothes and grunted. "Whoops. Oh well, at least I can finally tell him I wore it. Any food left?"

He'd eaten while she was upstairs but had wisely left enough food for her to make herself another breakfast, which she proceeded to cover with syrup and inhale. He was surprised she was keeping the ridiculous shirt on, but there were more important concerns at the moment.

"Veronica, about today, you've been through a lot. I think you should take it easy. Whatever you have planned can wait, can't it?" He was worried that she was keeping busy to avoid thinking about everything that had happened. It wouldn't be the first time.

She narrowed her eyes at him, not looking very tolerant of his concern. "How about we make a deal? I promise to let you know if yesterday starts backing up on me, and you accept that, for now, I'm doing great?"

He thought about that for a moment, and knew he had to concede the point. She would deal with yesterday in her own time but, if he pushed, she would only push back. His best option was to just be there when she was ready, and indulge her good humor today.

"Fair enough. So, in between busting people for human trafficking, getting yourself and a young girl rescued, and playing press agent, when did you have time to put together an itinerary for today?"

The left corner of her mouth turned up, and her eyes lifted in a teasing expression, her irritation forgotten. "I told you I'm a great multi-tasker. Plus, I had Adam's help."

He quailed a bit at the thought of what Adam and Veronica could have come up with together. The day should be interesting, if nothing else. "Anything like when we were having dinner at the Plaza, and the two of you crashed that meeting of American Vision so you could do a duet of 'Fuck You'?"

"Hey, that wasn't planned. Just serendipitous timing. Right place, right crowd, and _really_ right song."

He chuckled and took the last swallow of his coffee, watching as she picked up her plate and carried it over to the sink. "And for today?"

While she rinsed the plate, she craned her neck to take a look at the clock. "It's more of a reveal as we go plan. Adam is going to be here in fifteen and I need to do a couple of things on my laptop. Trust me?"

"Scarier words were never spoken."

"True that." She grinned and lay a syrupy kiss on his lips.

When she went to step away, he slipped an arm around her back and pulled her close. "I slave over a stove and that's all I get?"

First making a show of how she could now stretch up her arms to put them around his neck, she pulled his head down and gave him a kiss that had him rethinking the possibilities for their day of fun. Unfortunately, she only spared him about forty-five seconds before ending the embrace.

With a half-exhale, half-chuckle that was just shaky enough to convey how much the kiss had affected her, she backed toward the dining room where her laptop was waiting, her face apologetic. "I seriously have to do this before we leave. Raincheck?"

He didn't blink as he watched her retreat, and almost followed her when she bit her lower lip while waiting for his answer. The flush in her cheeks, and the way she hesitated instead of just walking away, made him realize how easy it would be to sway her from whatever task she was intent on accomplishing. He was torn between wanting her, and having his curiosity satisfied by going along with her plan. Curiosity won, but barely.

"Raincheck. Any chance it will be raining soon? You're killing me here."

She pretended to think about that, moving her eyes up and bobbing her head slightly from side to side. "Hmmm. Pretty sure a hurricane is coming through tonight." Backing through the doorway, his last glimpse of her before she left the kitchen was with an impish grin on her face. He chose not to follow, content with her promise that their celibate period was about to end.

Several minutes later, Adam's presence was heralded by the shouts of over a hundred reporters. He entered the kitchen wearing a blue and black leather jacket, black leather gloves, and a black motorcycle helmet, followed by a shorter Bobbsey twin. They were each carrying a large cardboard box, which they set on the counter before taking off their helmets.

Veronica came in from the dining room, tucking something in her pocket. "Adam, hey. And Liv, thanks for doing this."

The shorter biker was a thirty-something brunette with hazel eyes and a slightly oversized smile. "No problem, Veronica. This is going to be fun. But you owe me big time for not telling me you had one of these at home." Liv eyed Logan up and down appreciatively, in a way that said she approved.

Seeing the way Veronica's eyes narrowed slightly, Logan pulled her against his side and put a kiss on her temple. She usually didn't say anything when other women looked him over but, from being on the other side of it often enough, he knew how much a reassuring touch could help. But it didn't mean he couldn't tease her for the jealous reaction.

"That's because she usually only allows me to associate with gay men." He gave a nod to Adam, who nodded back with a low chuckle.

Veronica snorted as the tension left her features, and turned to him. "Logan, this is Liv Maroni. She's another agent and a friend. Liv, Logan."

Logan shook the leather-gloved hand of the pretty brunette, and lifted an eyebrow at her. "Veronica's partner in Viagra crimes?"

Liv said, "That's the one," at the same time Veronica reached out and punched Adam in the shoulder.

Adam winked at Veronica. "Like I wasn't going to tell him that story. You ready for this?"

"Natch." She grabbed a knife and started cutting at the tape on the boxes, pulling out two leather jackets and helmets identical to the ones Adam and Liv were wearing. Logan received one set of the clothes, in addition to a pair of black gloves.

"Is Trent in place?" Veronica asked Adam as she changed into her gear.

"Yeah, and thanks for these props by the way." He indicated the leather getup he was wearing and donned a lewd grin. "We've got something special planned for tonight."

Logan caught Veronica rolling her eyes at the same time he was, and they shared a laugh before she explained that there were two identical motorcycles outside. The plan was to use Adam and Liv as a doppelganger distraction so she and Logan could head to an address uptown.

Logan was tempted to ask more questions but had learned that the same rule applied to following Veronica as it did to falling into quicksand: your chances of getting through the situation were much improved if you didn't struggle.

As they finished donning their biker jackets and gloves, Adam's phone dinged with a text message. Logan was slightly irritated by the silent communication of nods that went on between the three agents, ending when Adam donned his helmet. He preferred to be in with the in crowd and wasn't sure he how much he liked being the fourth, clueless wheel.

Following Adam's example, the rest of them put on their helmets, and then left the house at an almost run. Logan was behind the other three, following Veronica when she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the street. Adam was leading and had no qualms about ramming anyone who stood in his way, so the reporters quickly learned to move.

In the street, guarded by the Vasendens, were two matching, chrome and blue Kawasaki Vulcans. Logan straddled one of the monsters, and looked at the crowd staring back at them. Photographers were jockeying for position while several stalkarazzi were grabbing their gear and heading toward vehicles, obviously intent on following the bikes. Being the center of attention in the whole scene was surreal, and uncomfortably familiar. This wasn't the friendly, casual press of movie premieres and award shows. This crowd was hungry.

Feeling Veronica scramble up behind him and wrap her arms around his waist, he fired up the bike. At Adam's signal, they took off, in opposite directions. He wasn't sure where Adam and Liv were headed, but he made sure to take a winding route, intentionally leading them through traffic-jammed streets so they were difficult to follow.

Several minutes after leaving the house, once he had made sure they were no longer being tailed, he pulled into a parking garage twenty blocks away. They slowly rode up the garage in a spiral, stopping on the fourth floor when he saw Trent waiting with yet another motorcycle; this time a black and silver Ducati.

Parking the Kawasaki, Logan took his helmet off and eyed the Ducati appreciatively. "No offense Trent, but if you see me getting hard, it has nothing to do with you."

Trent sighed dramatically. "Nothing new there. You've always been a tease."

Logan got off the Kawasaki, handing his jacket to Veronica when she asked him for it. While she put the coats away in the storage compartments, he walked over to get a closer look at Trent's bike. The concrete underneath his feet had a strange give to it, something he usually felt after getting in a fight or pulling one of his riskier stunts in high school. That's when he realized he was almost high with the excitement of the past few minutes. Racing through the city with Veronica riding behind him was like something out of an action movie, and he realized that he was actually having fun_. _ The extra energy coursing through him was making it impossible to stand still.

"So, when did you get the bike?"

Trent held up the keys and gave him a skeptical look. "Please, a Vespa is more my style. It's all yours Steve McQueen."

Feeling another surge of adrenaline at Trent's announcement, Logan whooped and ignored the keys, instead grabbing the shorter man and spinning him around once and before releasing him and laying a fast kiss on top of his head. He could hear Veronica laughing at his antics as she walked toward them and he let go of Trent, slowly circled the new bike, and let out a low whistle. Trent started pointing out its features, his face completely red as a result of Logan's attentions.

While Logan was ogling the bike and half-listening to Trent, Veronica had taken the keys and opened the bike's largest storage container. She removed two monochromatic black leather jackets and explained that the plain black, with the less colorful bike, should blend easily with the rest of city traffic.

Once he and Veronica had changed coats and were straddling the new bike, Trent handed Veronica an envelope, and she tipped forward to give him a one armed hug. Before she closed the front on her helmet, she gave Logan another address, this time in Harlem.

He hesitated before starting the bike. Though he didn't know their exact destination, he knew enough to stay away from the neighborhood. Whatever she had planned was starting to make him nervous.

"Let's motor, Jeeves. We're meeting someone there and can't be late." She cut off any questions he had by reaching out and slamming his visor shut, before closing her own. Choking back his arguments, he started up the bike and headed to Harlem.

The address was that of a decrepit apartment building; one with garbage littering the stoop and several layers of graffiti defacing the front of the building. Logan drove another block, finding a parking garage of questionable security to store the bike. He parked and looked around at the ragtag collection of cars in the garage, feeling a stark nervousness chase away the last of his earlier euphoric mood. Seeing how unconcerned Veronica was, it occurred to him how much time she must spend in neighborhoods like this because of her job, and he ordered his balls to come out of hiding.

They did another wardrobe change, exchanging their jackets and helmets for disguises from the bike's storage containers. When Veronica handed him a pair of sunglasses and a porkpie hat to wear, he gave her a hard look.

"If I knew I was going to be impersonating Justin Timberlake, I wouldn't have shaved today."

She snorted as he put the hat on; not instilling any confidence in him that he could pull off the look. His little crisis of vanity went ignored, however, and he barely kept back a pout when she put on a Yankees cap, tucking her hair underneath it. He had definitely gotten the short end of the fashion deal.

She shrugged at his comment, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the garage. "Blame Trent. I just asked for hats and sunglasses, he's the one that got creative."

Logan kept his head down as they walked, hoping no one would recognize him. Or photograph him if they did. Veronica stared straight ahead, but slipped on a pair of oversized D&G sunglasses to hide her face. Suddenly his porkpie didn't seem so ridiculous.

She drew a few stares on their short walk, but he loved that she could wear a stupid t-shirt and goggles, and still carry herself with a 'don't fuck with me' attitude. Next to her, his street-musician look barely garnered a glance. All the same, he was relieved when they finally reached the apartment building they'd passed by earlier.

A short, bespectacled, Hispanic man was now standing out front, and Logan followed as Veronica walked right up to him.

"Ramone Guitierrez?" At his nod of confirmation she stuck out her hand for him to shake. "Thanks for doing this. Have you been waiting long?"

"No, I just got here. It's not often we're accompanied on these jobs, but Henry said this was a special case?"

"Very special. We'll follow you up."

The man glanced at Logan curiously, but then led the way into the building and up to the third floor. Per Veronica's instructions, the two of them pressed against the wall to the right of the door while Ramone stood in front of it and knocked. When there was no answer he knocked again, this time not stopping until the door was yanked open.

Logan couldn't see who answered, but his curiosity was quickly satisfied.

"Melissa Wells?" Ramone asked.

Veronica was closest to the door, and Logan only held back because she placed a cautionary arm across his chest and shook her head, placing her finger over her lips.

"Yes?" the traitorous bitch asked, the sound of her voice sending a wave of revulsion through Logan's stomach.

Ramone handed an envelope to her, with the usual officious and bored manner of his profession. "You've been served," he said, before turning and heading down the stairs.

"Wait. What!?" Melissa yelled after him, stepping into the hallway.

"I'm sorry. Is this unclear to you? Maybe I can help."

Logan knew that tone in Veronica's voice; a layer of sweet covering a bed of razor blades. She had promised him a day of fun and, even if this was their only event, she had made good on that promise.

Melissa swiveled around to locate the person talking to her, maintaining her confused expression even after Veronica took off her hat and sunglasses. "Who the hell are –"her question was cut short when she saw Logan standing behind the short blonde.

When he'd seen her at Swells the previous week, Melissa had looked a bit faded. Now, seeing her without the heavy layer of makeup and her hair an uncombed mess, he could see she had aged more than was normal for five years. Her skin was the sallow, parchment-like type with tiny red veins that signified a heavy drinker. She was clearly as obsessed with dieting as she had been when they lived together, and it had resulted in hollow cheeks and thin, veined hands that made her skeleton come to the surface. Based on the age she had claimed when they met she should only be about thirty-one, but now she looked closer to forty.

Looking at the woman, Logan tried to remember how he'd felt before Mac and Dick had exposed her betrayals. He'd liked her, cared about her even. He'd believed that his money and his name weren't important to her; she'd worked two jobs while they were dating, and even insisted on paying him rent when she'd moved in with him. But it had all been part of her long con. The few, fleeting times he'd thought of her since moving to New York, he'd found his hatred had softened to bitterness. During their brief reunion at Swells, he'd realized that bitterness had faded to apathy.

The implosion of his relationship with Melissa had been a large part of why he'd requested the publishing house transfer him to the east coast. Considering how that had turned out, once he'd even thought about sending Melissa a thank you card for setting off the series of events that had led to his reconciling with Veronica. But even that smidge of gratitude had disappeared once she'd sold him out. He was exceedingly grateful, though, that he'd never confided in her about his past. At the time, he'd thought he was just trying to move on from it; now he wondered if it was because he'd somehow known she couldn't be trusted.

He bit back everything he wanted to say so he wouldn't upset Veronica's plan. Whatever she had in mind would be much better than any words he could throw at an unfeeling, using hag like Mel, anyway.

"Do you want to talk about this in the hallway, or can we come in?" Veronica asked.

Melissa looked between the two of them, then down at the unopened envelope in her hand before she shrugged her shoulders and gestured toward the open door. "Come in. If you're sure he'll keep his hands to himself."

Veronica led the way to the sagging couch, showing no qualms about making herself at home. Logan followed and perched next to her. He took off the sunglasses and clutched them in his hand, then did his best to keep them still even when a thrill of anticipation ran up his spine. Melissa had no idea who she'd pissed off.

"Go ahead and open it. I always like to watch people enjoy my presents," Veronica said.

With a cocked eyebrow, Melissa tore open the envelope, unfolded the papers inside and read for a moment before throwing them down on the coffee table and laughing. "You're suing me? For slander? What is he, some 19th century virgin whose reputation I tarnished? I have pictures that show what he did."

Veronica snapped her fingers and pointed at Mel. "Right. The pictures from the hospital. I'll get to those in a minute. But first, how did that photographer know Logan and I were at Swells that night?"

Logan didn't need to hear the answer. That Veronica had even asked the question meant Melissa was guilty of not only lying to the press, but setting off this entire cataclysmic series of events. He swallowed his anger for the moment, trusting they would walk out of the room victors.

Melissa shrugged and affected a look of boredom, going so far as to even yawn and roll her eyes. "I have no idea."

"So the check you deposited from a Matthew Frye, the same Matthew Frye who sold that story to TMZ, had nothing to do with you tipping him off?"

It was obvious from Melissa's reaction that she'd been caught in a lie. She grew angry and defensive, crossing her arms, and her face became pink. "How in the hell do you know that?"

The familiar, dangerous head tilt came out. Since Veronica wasn't asking for a favor Logan knew she was closing in. He relaxed and felt himself getting a little turned on when she smiled slow and wide, like a Cheshire cat, and used a tone smug enough to match. He had long admired her ability to be a bitch when it was truly warranted. "Oh, I know a lot of things."

Melissa shrugged again. "So what? I didn't tell him what to write. There's nothing illegal about giving him a heads up you were there."

"True, but I'm curious about why you were even working there. How is it that in a city with over four thousand restaurants, you just happen to get a job in our favorite?"

Melissa fell back on sarcasm. "Ever heard of coincidence?"

"Ah. So, it was a coincidence your friend Stacy recognized Logan in that same restaurant two months ago, and found out from a waitress that he was a regular there? It was a coincidence that right after you learned that, you moved to New York? It was a coincidence that Swells was the only place you applied for a job when you moved here? And it was a coincidence that you just happened to have the number of someone who was intent on making money off Logan's picture?"

Logan realized he was holding his breath, and let it out slowly so he wouldn't draw attention to himself. Pride and love for the woman beside him almost had him pulling a Tom Cruise on Mel's ratty couch, but he didn't want to ruin Veronica's moment. Instead, he put his arm along the back of the sofa, forcing his hands and feet to stay still. There was no way she had dug up all this information just last night, after her rescue. When those pictures of Mel had hit the internet, she hadn't even questioned their validity. Instead she had known he was being set up, and started whatever machinations had brought them to this moment, armed for bear.

"Sure. Coincidence." Melissa leaned against the wall opposite them. She was affecting an air of calm, but the way her eyes narrowed as they rapidly moved showed how hard she was working to figure out this situation.

"You say coinkidink, I say stalking. The restraining order is getting filed in an hour." Veronica leaned back against his chest. He couldn't resist lowering his arm to wrap around her waist, and giving her a squeeze to pull her even closer against him.

"For now, I wouldn't laugh at the slander lawsuit. It has teeth. You knew what you were saying was untrue, yet you did it anyway with malice and intent. Lawyers and judges really like those words, _malice and intent, _don't they?" Veronica had turned her head so her question was directed at him, and he observed the way her eyes danced and she was showing all her teeth. She was enjoying the hell out of herself.

If Veronica had gone so far as to file a lawsuit, she definitely had something. He looked away from her to stare at Mel, eager to play his part in the play Veronica was directing. "They're pretty fond of irrefutable proof, too."

Still composed, Melissa just rolled her eyes. "Proof of what? That you hurt us both?" She shifted slightly so she was addressing Veronica. "I don't know why you're trying to protect him. You saw the pictures. You got off easy."

Her eyes wide, Veronica shook her head. "You really need to get up a little earlier in the morning, maybe watch the news." She looked at her watch, the satisfied grin returning. "But maybe now would be an even better time to play catch up. Have a computer?"

Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket with a text, Logan ignored it so he could concentrate on what was happening in front of him. Anticipation had his knee bobbing up and down. Whatever was about to happen should be good; Veronica really did like to be around when her revenge plans played through.

Melissa let out an affected sigh and hesitantly grabbed a bag on the floor, removing a laptop and placed it on the coffee table before settling into the armchair opposite them.

Veronica snuggled back into him a little more and ordered, "Pull up NBCNews. Not as trashy as TMZ, but what can you do?"

He hadn't yet read anything from NBCNews. Realizing whatever link Melissa was about to look up was probably waiting on his phone, Logan reached into his pocket to pull it out, and got to read the article in sync with his ex. It was a news report touting the 'Melissa Wells Story' as fraudulent. He was amused to see that the article referred to him as 'the husband of FBI Special Agent Veronica Mars'. It seemed that, when it came to serious news, she was the headliner.

Accompanying the article was a copy of an insurance claim, filed two years before he ever met Melissa, detailing her injuries from a car accident. Her face had been severely bruised due to the deployment of an airbag, her arm was broken when it smashed against her door, and her face was cut from a broken window. The pictures attached to the claim matched those she'd given to the tabloids.

Melissa's face went pale as she looked up from her laptop. "You're FBI? Is that how you found out -?"

Veronica turned her head toward Logan again and winked with the eye that was away from Melissa. His restrained laughter made his torso shake, but he held it in so he wouldn't interrupt.

Lowering his head slightly when Veronica crooked her finger at him, she whispered exaggeratedly into his ear, her breath tickling him in an enjoyable way. "Now she's accusing me of stuff. Did I say I gave that story to the news?"

He turned his head and gave her a slow, lips-only kiss, unhurried in wanting to convey his thanks for what she'd done for him. That she fought so viciously on his behalf said so much about the kind of man she thought he was. She made him feel worthy, something he'd never really experienced until these past four years. Ending the kiss, he touched his nose to hers and gave a small smirk of acknowledgement. "Nope, you didn't say anything like that."

Veronica shook her head. "Well, I wouldn't worry. What goes around comes around, right?" When she stood, he followed her toward the door. He thought that was it, and that they would leave Melissa on that chair, rereading the article again. But he should have known better.

From her back pocket, Veronica took out the envelope Trent had given her earlier and held it out to Mel. "Oh, before I forget, I found this lying in the hallway. I took a peek so I would know whose doorstep to place it on."

Warily, Melissa got up and took the proffered envelope, pinching the edges with her fingers, but not making a move to open it.

With a smile that was rife with false sympathy, Veronica reached out and patted the other woman on the shoulder. "You are just not having a good day, are you? Outed as a liar on national news, served with a lawsuit, and now getting an eviction notice?"

"Eviction?" This had Melissa tearing open the unsealed envelope, pulling out the document, and scanning it frantically.

"Yeah. Looks like this property is coming under the management of DiCasa Enterprises, and they don't have any interest in keeping you as a tenant."

Logan started at the name, and then gave a low chuckle. She really had rallied forces before this meeting today. It also explained something else that he couldn't wait to call her out on.

Just then the power cut out, the limited light coming in from just the two living room windows. The only sound was the quiet clicking of the refrigerator fan as it cooled down.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. And you didn't pay your power bill?" Veronica shook her head and crossed her arms as she admonished the other woman.

Now Melissa's voice was shrill, finally panicked at the events that had unfolded over the last few minutes. "No! I paid it! This is some kind of mistake!"

"Wow. I've dealt with ConEd before. It can take _months_ to straighten something like this out. If I were you I would, _ppppttttzz," _Veronica used her thumb to make an arc, ending by pointing it back over her shoulder, "get out of New York. It really doesn't seem to be working out for you."

Melissa fish-mouthed for a couple of moments until Veronica shrugged her shoulders. "I'd say nice meeting you, but it really wasn't." She turned to Logan. "Shall we?"

She gave him one of his favorite looks of hers; her eyes sparkling and her eyebrows going up and down, full of mirth. It never failed to turn him on, and now was no exception, especially since she'd just spent the last ten minutes slaying his dragon. He opened the door for her, following as she walked into the hallway.

Once he'd closed the door behind them, he grabbed her, spinning them until he could pin her against the wall. He didn't bother with any preliminaries, just slammed his lips against hers, meeting her tongue when she opened her mouth and greedily took him in. She pressed tighter against him when his hands found their way under her shirt, bypassing the gun tucked into her waistband, and stroked the soft skin of her back.

"How in hell did you pull all that off in one day?" He took her hand and pulled her to the stairs, wanting to keep kissing her, but wanting to put some distance between them and Melissa even more.

"I spent the whole car ride to Jersey, before my meeting with Junie, on the phone. My dad found the insurance claim, and made the deal with NBC to release it just now if they got exclusivity. Dick, obviously, for the eviction –"

"And he made you promise to wear that as repayment." Logan pointed to the ridiculous t-shirt she was sporting; her casual acceptance of her fashion faux pas earlier hadn't seemed like her.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "He made me promise there would be a picture of me in some newspaper tomorrow wearing it. Seemed a small price to pay for him to buy out a management contract. Anyway, Henry for the slander lawsuit, Mac for the ConEd shutdown and the email search, and Jason for the bank account info. He found the payoff from the photographer for the tip. So you know what that means?"

Logan's feet stopped on the stairs and he turned to look up at her. "You aren't under any illusions that I'm going to be nice to the guy," he growled. He'd knew he never be able to really forgive the man for what had happened yesterday. Also, not that he'd admit it to Veronica, he couldn't stomach the terms of their previous relationship. He knew it seemed like a double standard, considering his own past, but it wasn't like she'd be any more tolerant if one of his bimbos of yore appeared in their lives. Charlie was different; at least he'd loved her.

Veronica's snort was unflattering, as if dismissing the possibility he even could be nice. "Um, no. It means my ex just bested yours. If life were a video game I would own you."

He laughed and followed as she passed him and continued down the stairs. "We both know you already do."

* * *

They collected the bike and made a fifteen minute stop at The Haven; less a fun event than a necessary one. Despite Veronica having spent almost two weeks lying to them, Pauline had come through and reported the 'Tammy Turner' information to the newspaper when she'd asked, and she owed personal thanks.

Pauline was waiting for her, and from her red, puffy eyes and splotchy skin, it seemed she'd been awake and crying since Veronica had woken her up the night before. In Pauline's office, their roles were reversed this time. It was Veronica who brought the other woman over to the couch and listened while she cried, explaining that she felt guilty for being the one to let Junie into the group.

Veronica didn't love hugging virtual strangers, but scooted over anyway and put her arm around Pauline's shoulders, offering what comfort she could. She filled Pauline in on more of the story, explaining that Junie's story had been authentic and, as far as Junie knew, her motives had been altruistic. That under other circumstances she would have bought the woman's story, too. The moment in Dean & DeLuca , when she had almost cried over the scars on Junie's neck, came to mind.

Pauline calmed down, but said it didn't help assuage her guilt since many of the women were now hesitant to stay at the shelter; knowing their protected circle had been infiltrated by Junie, as well as Veronica, didn't exactly inspire confidence.

When Veronica gave Pauline the check she had brought as a donation, Pauline agreed to keep it anonymous, so no connections would be made to Veronica and Logan. Veronica knew that when the connection between the shelter and the FBI investigation were made public, their donations could drop off. Or they could increase with the additional publicity; it was always hard to tell how these things would go.

She swallowed as she came out of the shelter and saw Logan leaning against the bike, dressed in the motorcycle jacket and gloves. When he removed the helmet and smiled sweetly at her, she felt a jolt of lust go straight to her knees, making her stumble just the littlest bit.

Only a little embarrassed when he tilted his head and lifted his eyebrow at her, she explained. "I'm having a total, 'Oh my god, its Jake Ryan, after the wedding! moment."

His smile changed to a smirk. "If you come back to my place, I promise to give your panties back to you. I may have to take them off you first, though."

She sighed heavily, lamenting their full schedule. "I'm going to hold you to that, later. Right now, we have to be someplace."

"Where?"

"The Plaza." Veronica felt a pang of guilt at the hopeful look Logan shot her when she gave him their destination.

"Because that's the best place to be when there's a hurricane?" He pulled her close and gave her that damnable 'I want you, now' look of his that made it even harder to put him off, even if it was for just a little while longer.

"No. Because I have to be at a press conference there in a little more than an hour." The words had him dropping his arm from her waist and stepping back to rest on the bike as he glared at her.

"No fucking way."

She shook her head at him, and felt her eyebrows draw together in a frown. "This isn't just about us. The initial focus is going to be what happened at Port Newark yesterday, and Director David wants me there to make a public statement. But it's at the Plaza because of the number of reporters coming, and he knows the actual news story is only going to hold attention for a couple of minutes before they start digging into us. You can join me then, or just be on the sidelines for moral support. It's up to you. "

"Veronica, you've never done this. It can get out of hand really quickly."

She gave him a relaxed smile, one that was more bravado than confidence. "I have to do this for my job. It's good PR to show that I came out of yesterday's ordeal unscathed, and talk up how the department handled it. But it's inevitable they're going to ask about us, and I don't want to hide anymore."

"You don't have to hide. Just say no comment. We can just issue a statement and call it good."

"Nobody pays attention to written press statements."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but she could see he was amused by whatever he was thinking. "So you want attention? If that's what you're going for, we could just do an interview for People."

She felt a shudder go through her and zipped up her jacket in preparation for leaving. "Not that much attention. This is a one-time only deal. If they ask, and they will, they'll get a few lines, and a couple of pictures."

"Pictures?" His frown told her he wasn't pleased with this new development.

"That, or they keep printing the ones of us from high school. Not that the public is tired of being reminded of our connections to Lilly and Felix, but I'm a little sick of it. Their other option is to use the ones from Swells and the dog park that make you look like OJ." When his shoulders wilted and he bowed his head, shaking it, she knew he was done arguing.

He looked up at her, his mouth turned down in resignation. "Fine. But if you're doing this, I'm doing it with you."

Relief came out of her in a sharp huff of air, and she smiled hugely at him. "Oh, thank God."

Less than two hours later they sat on a couch in a small office, waiting in silence. The press conference was scheduled to happen soon and they were as prepared as possible. They had consulted with Henry on the lines of questioning they were willing to answer, and she had typed them up to add to the press packets.

Henry had also swung by their house and brought the clothes and makeup bag Veronica had laid out on their bed before coming downstairs, so they were ready to face the public. Logan was gorgeous in a charcoal suit with a black, gray and red striped shirt open at the collar, and black dress shoes. Veronica wore a black pants-suit with a dark blue button up shirt underneath. Her hair was pulled back in a low, loose bun, and her makeup done simply. Though they didn't exactly match, he was more Hollywood suave while she was sporting the FBI special, their looks were appropriate for the occasion.

They were both wearing their wedding rings for the first time ever since their actual wedding. From the way Logan kept squeezing her hand and playing with her ring, she could tell he was thrilled at this new development. And, ok, maybe it wasn't the most modernistic way of thinking, but she also couldn't help grinning every time she looked at his left hand. It was an outward sign that he belonged to her, one that gave her a surge of pride.

At five o'clock, as instructed, they followed their appointed hotel staffer toward a large conference room. From the open door they could hear the chatter of a few hundred people, and the clicks and whirrs of cameras as Director David was filmed making his statement.

When he finished his brief explanation of the events of the day before, he introduced Veronica. Feeling Logan squeeze her hand, and seeing the reassurance as he crinkled his eyes at her, she took a deep breath; she could handle this. Walking out, she was almost instantly blinded by the rapid-fire camera flashes and bright lights that were erected around the room. Logan was right, she'd never done this and she hadn't expected to feel as if her feet were made of lead. She had to force herself to keep moving toward the trio of chairs that were set out.

Veronica took the seat Director David indicated, on his right, and smiled stiffly for the cameras. She had faced down armed criminals, been kidnapped, almost set on fire, and testified before countless juries. This should be easy, right? She ordered the butterflies in her stomach to go back in their cocoons so she could relax, but they weren't listening.

As predicted, the questions about the events of the previous day lasted only a few minutes. Veronica answered as best she could, repeatedly touting the fast actions of the other agents in bringing her home safely. There was much that couldn't yet be made public, and the reporters quickly grew bored with her stilted answers and litany of 'that is an aspect of the case I cannot discuss at this time'. She was almost relieved when the personal question came up.

"How does your husband feel about all this, Agent Mars?"

She cut her eyes to the side and felt her stomach calm a bit at the nod Logan gave her from the open doorway. "He's here if you want to ask him yourself."

Logan walked toward her, ignoring the cameras as he studied her with a bit of concern. He first shook hands with Director David, then leaned down to kiss her on her cheek and whisper in her ear before he took his seat. "Relax, Bobcat. You got this."

She let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding and grinned up at him. He knew the effect that nickname, and his voice in her ear, would have on her and, feeling her joints go a little liquid in response, she managed to relax a bit.

He scooted his chair closer to hers and grabbed her hand, pulling it into his lap and using his thumb to covertly stroke her palm while he leaned back. He looked completely at ease as he crossed his ankle over the opposite knee, and placed his right hand on top of it. The smile he gave her included a wink before he finally turned to the reporters. "What was the question?"

The man who had spoken to her was still standing, waiting for his answer, and this time he addressed Logan. "A couple of weeks ago your wife was beaten when making an arrest, then yesterday she was kidnapped and held captive for several hours. How do you feel about her job in light of these occurrences?"

Logan fixed the guy in a stare. Veronica could tell by the tightness around his eyes and the way his hand stilled, holding hers tightly, that he hated the recent events being discussed so casually.

"I'm proud of my wife and have every confidence she can handle herself well in her job. A job that is as dangerous as it is necessary. But I'll admit, while she was missing yesterday," he looked at down at their conjoined hands and gave hers a small tug before returning his attention to the reporter, "it felt like the world had stopped and I was in danger of falling off of it. You're wearing a wedding ring, so maybe you can understand."

Veronica swallowed at this admission. They hadn't prepared stock answers to these questions, both agreeing that they would stick to simple truths to avoid sounding rehearsed. But Logan's statement made her realize just how much they still needed to talk about what had happened.

"Agent Mars, the two of you have known each other since high school, is that correct?"

There were a couple of monitors set up behind their table, and she had given instructions to the AV tech for when this line of questioning came up. She gave him a small nod and answered, "Actually, since we were twelve."

A picture came up, of her and Logan the first summer they'd known each other. They were at the beach and had come in from the water, just to get into a wrestling match. Both were coated in sand and laughing, Logan's arms slung around her neck after she'd conceded his win. She'd just ended her growth spurt and Logan had barely started his, so they were the same height. He was all gangly arms and bony chest in his swim trunks, and she a skinny child in a dark blue tank suit, no sign of the curves that took another interminable two more years to really develop. She'd chosen the picture because she wanted to convey not only their long connection, but innocence.

"We were friends for a long time, and then dated a bit in high school and college before we lost touch." It was the natural opening to ask about Lilly, despite their strictures, and she held her breath as she waited for the next question, but let it back out again when the reporters stayed on approved topics.

"How long have you been back together?"

Since the question wasn't specifically directed at either of them, Logan picked it up. "Over four years. I had just moved to New York and Veronica was already living here, though I didn't know it. We reconnected through a mutual friend." Veronica had to wonder what Charlie was going to say about that sanitized version of events and, from the devilish grin he gave her, knew Logan was thinking the same thing. She barely kept herself from rolling her eyes.

"Logan, you and Charlie McGeary were interviewed for Entertainment Weekly a couple of years ago, when the movie you wrote based on his book was released. The interviewer asked you what your ideal woman would be like. Do you remember your answer?"

Veronica turned to face Logan, the memory of the reward she'd given him after reading that interview bouncing deliciously between them. He kept his eyes locked on hers and brought her hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on it before turning away to respond to the reporter's question. Catching herself watching closely as he swallowed, and ran his tongue over his lips for a second before answering, she forced herself to face their audience. She could still feel where those lips had touched her hand, and it was distracting her from her goal with this conference.

Logan nodded and gave a low chuckle. "I said she would be some combination of Sydney Bristow and Goldie Hawn. Smart, funny, gorgeous, and able to kick some serious ass. Since Veronica worked undercover we couldn't go public with our relationship, but I was definitely describing her."

"Speaking of going public, there was never any mention of your being married until today. How did you keep your wedding a secret? "

Logan fielded this question as well. "Well, it helps to have a fiancé that specializes in covert ops. Veronica planned every detail of the wedding, and we both brainstormed ways to keep us from being connected publicly even after we were married."

"What was the wedding like?"

Veronica took her turn with this question. She didn't personally get it, but had seen enough covers of rag mags in the grocery store to know weddings were big news. The question was expected. "It was small. A formal, traditional ceremony followed by a great party. My dad and all our best friends came. The only downside was that we didn't get to eat any cake." She had brought one other picture, also chosen for specific reasons. She knew there would be curiosity about their wedding but she also wanted to highlight the fun part of their relationship.

The AV tech changed the picture to one of Veronica and Logan in their wedding clothes, laughing at the end of what was obviously a vicious cake war. They were both plastered in frosting, with bits of cake smashed into their once pristine wedding getups. Veronica had her head turned away, eyes scrunched up and laughing hysterically as Logan held one of her fingers in his mouth, licking off the frosting while managing to look ridiculous and lecherous at the same time. The crumbled remains of a cake were in the background, utterly destroyed. Looking at the picture again, she could almost hear Wallace shaking his head and walking away, muttering, "That was a perfectly good cake."

"Logan, what do you have to say about the Melissa Wells story? Especially in light of the NBCNews article that came out this morning claiming it was all a lie?"

With a smirk, Logan shook his head. "A lie on the internet? Is that possible?" His smarm made Veronica laugh, as well as several others in the room, and she marveled at how comfortable he was in this world. "I have no comment. I think the NBC article addressed the situation well enough."

"Agent Mars, what's next for you in your job?"

She smiled and shook her head slightly. This was a question even she didn't have an answer to yet. "I'm off undercover, obviously, but there is a lot of other work to be done. I'm excited at the opportunity."

Through the cacophony of the reporters vying for the next question, Veronica distinctly heard someone say 'Lilly Kane', one of the topics that they had agreed could not be discussed. Logan was the first to react, standing up and reaching a hand down to help her up.

He gave a genial smile, but she could see the tightness in it. "If you'll excuse us, we have another appointment this evening." He put his hand on her waist to help usher her out, following their staffer until they were back in the safety of their room.

They sank onto the couch, laughing with relief. She had no idea how people did that as part of their jobs. No wonder presidents flubbed their speeches and beauty queens gave such horrible answers to practiced question. That was an inhuman amount of stress.

"So, is Logan and Veronica's Day of Fun over, or is there another stop planned?"

She reached for her bag on the floor and dug out her phone. "Fun definitely over, but there may be another stop. Let me make a call and check up on one thing before we change and get out of here."

* * *

By the time they reached the next address, Logan's phone was buzzing every two minutes with updates from the clipping service. Thanks to the press conference, new stories were being written and posted incessantly. He finally turned the thing off, deciding to wait until tomorrow to care what the reporters thought of their conference.

Logan took a good look at the building they were facing and felt his stomach do a flip. It was a large warehouse, obviously abandoned; the kind that would be a haven for crack heads and five dollar prostitutes.

"Veronica, you have got to be kidding me. You are not going in there." She turned and gave him a reassuring smile, walking backwards towards the warehouse.

"I wasn't planning on it. Wait here. And relax, I'm carrying." As she faced forward again and moved toward the entrance, she lifted up the back of her jacket to remind him of the gun tucked into her waistband. Somehow it didn't make him feel any better, but he resigned himself to the task of keeping watch for any signs of danger.

It was already dark, and this wasn't the kind of neighborhood where anything good happened after dark. "Ten minutes, Mars. Then you're leaving whether you want to or not."

He watched as Veronica used her fist to bang on the door of what was once an employee entrance. When no one answered after a long moment, she started banging again, three beats on and three beats quiet until the door was opened by a short blond kid in dirty, worn clothing, and hair so matted it had become dreadlocks.

"What the fuck you want, bitch?" Dreads yelled.

"I need to talk to Anne," Veronica answered, sounding completely unruffled by the punk.

"Fuck you," Dreads said, then stepped back to slam the door in her face. Logan had abandoned the bike at the kid's first comment, and reached them by the time Veronica had stuck out a foot to prevent the door from closing.

Dreads moved forward to deal with Veronica, but encountered Logan instead. She had stepped back when Logan reached his arm between her and the kid, grabbed him by the front of his greasy shirt, and pulled him out to slam against the wall. All seven inches of Logan's superior height was used to intimidate as he got in the boy's face.

"Never, and I mean, _never_, talk to my wife like that again. Got it?" The tang of urine burned his nose, and Logan wasn't sure how much of it was fresh. But if he had made the kid piss himself, all the better.

Dreads looked up at him and nodded, his lower lip quivering like he was going to cry.

"Let's try it again. Is Anne here?" Again Dreads nodded. Logan let go of the rancid shirt and ordered. "Get her. Now."

Once the punk had scurried inside, Veronica rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "That wasn't strictly necessary."

He ignored her irritation in favor of his own, glaring at her as he wiped his hand on his jeans. "If you know me at all, you know it was."

She snorted and stepped back to lean against a pillar that held up the parapet, texting someone on her cell phone while they waited. He was sure he heard her mutter "John Wayne," under her breath, but he ignored it since he also saw her lips twitch as she tried to keep from smiling.

It only took a couple of minutes for a short, plump, Eurasian-looking girl with a wide nose, thick chestnut hair and expressive brown eyes to materialize. Her clothes had a number of holes and rips but, unlike the kid who had fetched her, it looked like she made an effort to stay clean. Logan could only imagine how hard that would be in these conditions.

With all but those closest to her, Veronica was stingy with her affections. She didn't often hug friends hello, or indulge in casual contact by patting people on the back or putting her hands on their shoulders. Therefore, Logan was completely surprised when she was the first to move forward and pull the young girl into a hug.

"Why did you run away from the foster home?" Veronica scolded.

Anne grimaced and pulled away, but found her face caught between Veronica's hands as the reprimand continued. "I told you it was just for a day. Why didn't you listen to me?"

The girl shrugged and looked down at her feet. "People say stuff. Doesn't mean they follow through."

"Yeah, well I do. Once you're my friend, you're kind of stuck with me," Veronica said. At Logan's laugh, Anne turned her head to look at him.

He gave her a small smile and nodded. "It's true. I've known her eighteen years and can't seem to get rid of her."

Anne just gave him a suspicious look.

Veronica claimed her attention again. "Were you serious about everything you told me last night? About wanting to go to school and get a job?"

Anne nodded, but looked at her like she was bored. "What can you do about it?"

"More than you think. A friend of my husband's owns an apartment building. He agreed to let you have a studio, rent free, for a year."

Logan looked at her in surprise, still not used to her referring to him as her husband with strangers. The word didn't get used much with people they already knew, and he was elated at the sound of it.

Anne's brow furrowed at this information. "Why would he do that? He doesn't even know me."

"He owes me. And don't worry about it; he's come a long way, but still has a karma deficit to work off. But there are three conditions."

"There always are." Anne stepped back with crossed arms, and Logan watched as her face hardened into an expression he could only interpret as _closed. _He recognized it for the defensive action it was, familiar from Veronica when she was the same age. This kid had been hurt, and had learned to get tough.

"One, you have to work. I have a lawyer friend who is going to take your emancipation case pro bono, in exchange for your help. She needs a Girl Friday. It pays decent and is only for a few hours a day after school. Two, you have to make the grades, at least a 3.0."

Anne nodded, then asked, "And the third?"

"You have to trust me. You keep up your end of this deal, and I've got your back. That includes letting me know when you're having a hard time with something."

Anne stood there, arms still crossed, looking between the warehouse and Veronica. Finally she nodded, and said, "But if I don't like it I'm going to bail, got it?"

Logan almost laughed out loud again, but wisely held it back. It was obvious to him that Veronica had sunk her teeth into this kid, and she was fiercely protective of those she considered hers, no matter how much they pissed her off . Even senior year of high school, when he'd been constantly making asinine comments to her and doing his best to make her jealous, she'd helped him when he'd asked. She hadn't even given up on Weevil, as much as he'd deserved it. She might as well brand this kid and get it over with.

As Veronica nodded, a car pulled up to park next to his bike, and Henry climbed out. Introductions were quickly dispensed, and Henry kept her attention on Anne. "Are you ready to go?"

Anne's eyes grew wide as she looked from Veronica to Henry. "You mean now?"

Veronica put her hand on the girl's arm, then rubbed up and down in a gesture of comfort. "The apartment comes furnished and Henry stocked it with food. No one is going to hassle you there." The look they exchanged was loaded, and apparently carried enough meaning to have the girl run inside to grab her stuff and follow Henry to the car.

Once they were alone, walking toward the bike, Logan veered to the side and bumped her shoulder.

"What?" Veronica asked, looking up at him.

He smiled down at her, his tone teasing though he was actually being serious. "You're like the fiercest guardian angel ever."

Veronica snorted and bumped him back. "She just got to me. Reminds me of someone, but I can't figure out who."

He used his fingers to emphasize each point. "Let me think. She's smart, sarcastic, untrusting, wise beyond her years…sounding familiar yet?"

She froze, then rolled her eyes. "Crap. Am I going to have to go to therapy again?"

He laughed and put his arm around her hip, bringing her side flush with his as he kissed the top of her head. "How about home first?"

They parked the bike at the garage nearest their house, storing the helmets and gloves but keeping the jackets on, but open, for the walk home, and he wondered about the fate of his new ride. He'd grown attached in just a few short hours. "So, where did the bikes come from, anyway?"

"I broke in that black AmEx you foisted on me. That one really is yours. I told Adam and Liv they could keep the other bikes as a thank you."

He snorted and placed his arm across her shoulders. "First talking about quitting your job, then pricey presents for our friends. Most guys don't get a trophy wife until their second or third go-round."

"I don't think I really qualify until I bling out my phone with Swarovski crystals, schedule regular spa days and get a personal shopper."

Stopping under a street light, he took the first good look at her since leaving the studio. He'd been about to make a remark about other things trophy wives were known for, but the comment died on his lips. She looked drained. She was pale and he could see a slight tremor in her hand when she lifted it to brush back her hair.

He lined her jaw with his hands and spoke sternly. "Is your head bothering you again, or is it something else?"

Her smile was rueful as she shook her head. "I'm just hungry, and ready to be home."

Nodding, he tucked her under the crook of his arm. They hadn't eaten in hours and he knew better than to let her go that long without food. Her metabolism burned up fuel almost as quickly as she took it in; the hummingbird comparison was apt in more ways than one. As they turned the corner and saw the street party still set up in their honor, they gave matching sighs of resignation before stepping forward.

The Vasenden twins, quickly tuning into their presence, moved in to flank them and clear a path through the throng. Logan admired the game face Veronica wore. Smiling and laughing, she threw answers to some of their questions as he held her close and pushed their way through. "I'm just glad to be home." "It helped to know Logan was waiting for me." "Logan has been amazing through all this." "I knew my fellow agents would come through."

While she talked to the reporters he tilted his ear toward Vasenden Thing 1, getting the security update. No breaches had been detected, no threats had been received, and the dogs had been walked and fed a few hours before.

Finally getting in the house, he collapsed against the door while Veronica dropped to her knees and gave each of the dogs a huge hug. Despite their edict about baby talk she was crooning to them, "Who's my boys? That's right, you are. Yes you are." The dogs were wriggling and rubbing up against her as she scratched them all over.

"I really better get some food in you before you start letting them lick you on the mouth."

She scrunched up her nose and kept up the scratch fest. "Only one guy in this house is allowed that privilege, mostly because he doesn't spend all his down time licking himself."

Logan cocked an eyebrow at her then headed toward the fridge, opening it to evaluate their options. "Only because I'm not that flexible. Don't underestimate my depravity."

With a laugh, Veronica got up and headed toward the dining room. "I don't underestimate it; I count on it. I'm going to let the dogs out back for a minute."

"Mmm hmm." Pulling out a carton of eggs, a bag of shredded cheese, ham, and green onions, he started putting together the fixings for an omelet. He had only cracked a couple of the eggs when she came back and grabbed the onions, washed them one-handed, and started dicing. They worked companionably until everything was combined, then she hopped onto the counter next to him while he cooked.

She was being a pest, leaning over the pan to give an exaggerated sniff, trying to stick her fingers in the mixture to cage a piece of ham, and laughing every time he used the spatula to swat her hand away. He managed to deflect her long enough to get the damn thing done, then shoved a plate at her and ordered her to eat.

He knew what she was doing; trying to get him irritated enough so that when she finally went to kiss him, he wouldn't be in the mood to be so careful with her. That was fine with him – she'd already made the point that she was up for it—but he was going to make sure she was fed first.

Positioning himself against the counter opposite from her, and out of reach, he smiled when she took the first bite and rolled her eyes, moaning. She was done before he'd eaten even half of his, and was eyeing it hungrily. He chuckled and placed his plate on the counter to her right, loaded a bite onto his fork, and held it out to her. Just as she went to bite down, he pulled it out of her reach.

"You want it?"

With a wicked smile she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to stand in front of her. She put her knees on either side of his waist, and dangled her calves by his thighs. Ignoring the fork he held out to her, instead she took his bottom lip in her teeth. "I want it."

Dropping the fork on the counter and grabbing her hips so he could pull her closer, he brought her body flush against his. When he tilted his head and matched his lips to hers, all the small starts they had had throughout the day finally got their payout. They were both too heated to be tentative, and he groaned when he felt her hand slide down the front of his pants to give him a squeeze.

Reaching around to slide his hands up the back of her shirt, he encountered her gun and slid it out, checking it and pulling out a drawer before throwing it in.

Her stomach started to shake, and he could tell she was biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing. "I guess that's better than the time you tripped the safety, then knocked it into the toilet when you lifted me onto the bathroom counter."

He went for her neck, finding the spots she loved best. Hearing her intake of breath, he smiled against her skin before resuming his task. "I still don't think that plumber bought our story about how the bowl got smashed. This time I made sure the safety was still on."

"Good thing—," her words were cut off when he caught her earlobe between his teeth and made an exaggerated purring sound.

His hand on her spine, he felt the shiver that went through her, and laughed when she threw her head back, giggling.

"Stop! That just feels weird."

While they were having fun, enjoying being able to play in this way again, he also knew where their playfulness was leading. He wanted nothing more in that moment that to be inside her, and hear the deeper, huskier way her voice sounded when she said his name, as she always did at some point when they made love. It had been too long since he'd heard her sound that way.

"What do you say we move this upstairs before Jordan Green opens the kitchen door and gives the press a real inside glimpse at our marriage?"

"A celebrity caught on camera schtuping his own wife? The earth might just tip on its axis with news like that." Her face was almost lit-up at the thought, and he had to admit it would be an interesting twist to their story. But, a few photographs aside, their lives weren't for public viewing.

He pulled her off the counter, supporting her weight until she wrapped her arms and legs around him like a spider-monkey, and then headed for the stairs. "Yeah, it's all fun and games until your dad picks up a newspaper."

* * *

It was almost a month before they could escape to Scotland. Veronica spent a lot of time with Anne, making sure she was adapting to her new life well; Logan wanted to finish the screenplay adaptation of Charlie's book; they decided to take a short trip to the West Coast to see Keith and their friends; and they didn't want a lot of reporters following them across the ocean, so chose to wait until their term as media darlings had ended.

They had done their best to ignore the attention given them. Logan had grown up around it, but it was difficult for Veronica at first, since she wasn't used to being photographed every moment they were away from the house. However, the newfound freedom of not having to hide their relationship made them both lighthearted and silly, and soon she was having too much fun to care. They took in Yankee games, spent a day playing at Coney Island, went out to dinners with Charlie and Henry, and rode the Ducati on day trips out of the city.

Before the end of that month, reporters were no longer haunting their stoop; once several hundred photos of them laughing and kissing were already gracing the tabloids, interest started to wane. Melissa had slunk off to her hometown in Florida to live with her elderly mother, and had agreed to not talk to any media in exchange for their dropping the lawsuit.

Dick had come through, sending them pictures of a behemoth of a house in Onich, about ten miles outside of Fort William. It had all the amenities they had asked for – including being situated on a large property so they could take the dogs, and isolated enough that any reporters would stand out. It had seven bedrooms, was right on the coast, and had a snooker room, something they were both thrilled about. Though they hadn't even gotten there yet, the bragging and betting had already begun. Logan had done some internet research and discovered a local sport called canyoning he wanted to try. Without too much cajoling he had talked Veronica into doing it with him at the first opportunity.

Once on the plane, she waited until they were an hour into the flight to bring up the topic she'd been sitting on for the past several days. Since the morning after the kidnapping they'd had only a few brief conversations about her job, but no actual decisions had been made. She still insisted she wanted to leave the FBI, and he was positive she'd change her mind after some time off. Though she knew the real reason was that, oddly, _after _the kidnapping he thought she was safer with the FBI than anywhere else.

"Logan?"

"Hmmm?" He looked up from his Surfing Magazine with a distracted expression.

"How long did you say we have the house for?"

He frowned when he looked at her, confused by the question. "As long as we want it. Why? Don't you have to be back to work in a month?"

"If I go back there." She didn't want to meet his stare until they got to the end of this conversation, so glanced away from him and started doodling in the margins of the crossword puzzle she was working on.

"Veronica. Can you spare me the big buildup and just tell me where this is going?" He sounded irritated, which she found oddly comforting. At least he wasn't pulling a knuckle-dragging move and refusing to even talk about her options.

She started drawing emoticons in the boxes of her puzzle, trying to guess which expression Logan would wear once she'd told him everything. "I got an interesting offer from a P.I. agency."

"You said you really didn't want to go back to cheating spouses and dog 'nappings." Still irritated, now he also sounded a little bored, as if girding himself for a rehash of a conversation they'd already had.

"I wouldn't be. The majority of their clients are non-profit organizations. Adoption agencies commission them to look into prospective parents, as well as do periodic follow-ups after the adoption. The job also includes a lot of in-depth background checks, looking into the history of major donors and potential employees – a non-profit's reputation is all they have, so they need to know people's history before they let them into the inner circle. Their biggest client is the ACLU. The job starts in three months, when the person I'd be replacing is going on permanent maternity leave."

"The ACLU? That's kind of causy for you." The irritation and boredom was gone from his voice, replaced with interest tinged by confusion. She could teach a class on reading his emotions from his voice alone. It was almost as expressive as his eyes. Her pen started drawing their exact shape in the remaining boxes of her puzzle, trying to perfect the slant they acquired when he smiled.

"I wouldn't be getting into the political aspects of the group, just digging for the facts. I would get to lead my own unit, and they said I would have a lot of autonomy and flexibility for how I go about my work. It's low risk, but should be really interesting."

When he was quiet, she dared peek at him out of the corner of her eye. He was shaking his head as he looked at her, his eyes wide and his mouth open as he moved his jaw, a bit of a smile playing around his lips. "That's…awesome."

"Yeah?" She turned her head to fully look at him now.

"Um…yeah. Leave it to you to find another way to save the world when you get tired of people trying to kill you." His smile was gaining wattage the more he thought about it, but then she watched as his gleeful expression changed to one of mock concern.

"Well, I mean maybe. It really depends how much they're paying you. I don't intend to take a lifestyle hit just so you can 'find yourself'."

She was laughing before he got to the end of his little speech. "The money is much better, and I think I'll like the work, but the real upside is that I get to be home every night."

He cocked his head to the side and tightened his jaw before responding to that, the amusement leaving his face. "Is _that _why you want to do it? It's been great having you by my side with everything this past month, but I'm a big boy. I can handle you being out on long assignments."

"Logan, I-"

She saw the way he cut his eyes around to make sure no one was listening as he grew more irritated. "No, dammit. Marrying me was compromise enough for your career. We both knew a day would come when—"

This time it was she who interrupted him; it was her turn to be upset. "God! You're like a twenty-first century Ralph Cramden! Did it ever occur to you that I _want _to be home every night? That this isn't just about you?"

"Then what's it about?"

She snorted at the genuine confusion on his face. He really could be egocentric sometimes. "Me. What I want. There's a saying: 'work to live, not live to work'. I've had it backwards for too long. I'm tired of cancelling plans with friends and answering every invitation with 'if I'm not working'. Plus, I told you it hasn't felt right at the Bureau for a while. I'm the proverbial square peg and am so done with trying to be round."

He took his time considering what she'd said, pressing the knuckles of his hand against hers, and studied her face as their fingers laced together. "Are you sure those reasons are enough that you won't regret it later?"

"No, you nimrod." The left side of her mouth lifted in a wry smile. "I said it's not _just_ about you. But have you ever heard that regret comes a day too late?" His mouth turned up in a small smile and he nodded, waiting for her to go on. "I want a real life with you. Not one that's filled with any more goodbyes and lonely nights apart. Especially for a job that I don't even want."

He laid the side of his head against the seat, giving her a soft, flirty look. "Nimrod? Does this mean I've graduated from jackass?" His eyes twinkled with humor at the new insult.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "It all hinges on the next ten seconds. What do you think? I have to let them know by next week."

His eyes got that deep, liquid look she loved, and she was grateful for the sparsely populated business-class cabin when he leaned toward her. "I think…congratulations. And I'm really proud of you." He gave her the sweetest of kisses, which grew into more with little provocation. Pulling back he rested his forehead against hers, letting out a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a groan.

He craned his head and looked around, probably noticing the nearest fellow passengers were two rows back, as she had. The blanket she'd asked for earlier was wadded up between them, and he shook it out, using it to cover both of their heads, as she laughed.

"If I'm going to be getting you every night, it's time we started living in the manner to which I intend to become accustomed."

**The End**

* * *

******EPILOGUE**

**To: Nevertothethird**

**My friend, I've tried to think of a way to convey the thanks I owe to you for everything you given me and this story. Your laughter, encouragement, and insight pushed me through when I would have otherwise given up, or made very, very bad choices. (You know of which I speak) **

**I am also deeply in your debt for the hilarious, incendiary ficlets you have sent me consisting of our own special characters. So, since I have no way of making Adam either straight or real, I am left with only words to convey my gratitude. **

**Here it is; the epilogue you asked for. I hope you don't mind sharing with everyone else that has followed this story to the end. **

"Veronica, there is no way in hell that's happening." Logan glared at the length of tartan she held up to him, even worse than the modern day man-skirt he'd imagined.

"Come on Logan, you said I could have anything I wanted on this trip." Her pout was overdone, and a little adorable, but he was unmoved by it.

He tilted his head down and narrowed his eyes at her. "I meant five-hundred dollar hand-knitted, wool sweaters and boring trips to linen museums. If you think that offer included me wearing a kilt of any kind, you really overestimated my generosity."

Undiscouraged, she pulled out her next stock move. Clutching the length of plaid to her breasts, she came close enough to walk the fingers of one hand up his chest in a flirty way, and look up at him through batting eyelashes. "But, I was thinking, if you wore it in the traditional sense..."

He snorted at the suggestion. As if there was any chance he was going to be mummified in a plaid dress without even the benefit of his briefs. Wool could be itchy…which did not mean he was even considering this.

"I'm not going commando. Especially not while trying to walk around in a dress. I'd trip." He took a step back and tucked his thumbs into his back pockets, silently daring her to try and continue this argument.

Catching the double meaning of his comment a moment before he did, Veronica's lips twitched. "Now who's overestimating?"

Finally seeing a little humor in the moment, Logan reached out and took the material out of her hands, throwing it around her shoulders and using it to keep her captive. He waggled his eyebrows before leaning down to speak directly into her ear, low, the way she liked it. "That wasn't what you said this morning."

She laughed and pulled her head back, away from his mouth, reaching up her hands to clutch the ends of the makeshift shawl. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm sure you do. But I'm more than willing to remind you, anyway." He let go of the tartan to pull her into his arms, then leaned down to kiss her. His move was thwarted, though, when she turned her head at the last second and let out a huge yawn.

Her games were predictable, but effective, and he quietly cursed as his resolve slipped a notch. He shook his head slightly and scowled down at her.

"Really? You're playing the tired card?"

Her shoulders moved in a shrug while she shook her head, as if to clear it; the damn smile she gave him was rife with apology and innocence. "Sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night. I just don't think I'm going to be much good until I work out this weird dream I've been having."

"A dream." At her nod, he let out a heavy sigh of resignation. "Would this be a dream where you're woken up by a kilt-clad Scotsman coming into the bedroom?"

Her mouth fell open in shock as she widened her eyes at him, but a smile played at the edges of her lips. "Have you been having it, too?"

She could be so fucking smug when she smelled victory. The few games of pool they'd played the past week had proven that.

He rolled his eyes and held out his hand. "Just give me the damn kilt, Veronica."

**A/N: Ack! It feels impossible that this story has come to an end so soon. Thank you all for the reviews, follows and favorites—though more reviews would be appreciated! I would love to know what you think of how this final chapter played out. The plot bunnies are breeding so I'm sure we'll be seeing each other soon. **


End file.
